Deer Drabbles
by Emmeebee
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots featuring James and Lily at various points throughout their life. Some chapters will be canon compliant, while others will have varying degrees of AU-ness.
1. The Wizard of Oz

"I don't think your sister likes me," James whispered as the older girl left the living room with what could only be described as a flounce. Being well-liked wasn't usually high on his list of priorities; as long as he could face his friends and girlfriend without shame, he didn't care what individual people thought of him. This time, however, her good opinion had meant something to him.

Settling into his side, Lily scoffed at the understatement. She'd warned him that the chances of her sister accepting him was slim to none, but he'd insisted that he could charm his – and, by extension, Lily's – way into her good graces. Secretly, the redhead had hoped that he would succeed; she had seen enough troubled glances thrown her way over the years to know that Petunia, despite their issues, wanted a reconciliation as much as she did. Unfortunately, her expectations had been proven right; while Petunia had indeed seemed flattered by James' charisma and compliments, she had ultimately snubbed them both. "It's alright. She's not that fond of me, either."

"But I had such high hopes for that one," he declared, his voice the embodiment of misery as he clutched at his chest as if heartbroken by her sister's casual dismissal. "Whatever shall I do now? My life has no meaning anymore."

His antics sent a smile flittering across her face despite her attempts to suppress it. She'd recently noticed a rather interesting trend in which the Marauders tended to get more melodramatic and ridiculous when people they cared about felt downhearted. Still, she didn't want their evening to take a turn for the sappy. She'd cried to him about it before and she was sure she would do so again, but the school holidays were coming to an end, and she didn't want to waste the precious time that remained on things that could be done just as well at school. In a no-nonsense tone, she replied crisply, "Watch a film with me, that's what."

A grin spread across his face at the prospect, and he practically bounced in his seat. "Yes, let's do that," he said, even as Lily was displaced by his jostling and moved to the other, much safer, side of the lounge. "They sound fascinating, but I still don't get how they actually work. I mean, I do in theory. It's like a wizarding photograph, you said, except that it's – What was it again?"

"Longer, fictional, and scripted," she replied as she made her way over to the cabinet to find a film she thought he'd like. _It needs to be interesting and well-made, ideally with a flair for the dramatic._ "I guess it's kind of a cross between a photograph and a play, really."

"That was it. Still, I don't get how it actually _works_. You said the photographs change and are cut together, so it sounds like a collage, except it's not all stuck together to make one big picture. It's just all so confusing. It's a photograph and a play and a collage and not a collage." He frowned in consternation at the idea. He wasn't used to struggling to comprehend a concept; he'd been gifted with natural intelligence and born into one of the wealthiest pureblood families in Britain, so he had a good, well-rounded education. The idea of facing a topic that he couldn't relate back to something he'd already come across was both confounding and completely frustrating.

Fondness flared up in her chest as she stared at him, the video she'd selected clutched to her chest like a teddy bear comforting a child. So much was going on in the wizarding world – tension was thickening and allegiances were being formed and new reasons to afraid were popping up like gnomes – and the fact that he was genuinely interested in Muggle culture despite that meant a lot to her. They both had a lot on their minds, yet it – and _she_ – meant enough to him for him to expend brainpower working out things he would never even really need to know. The extent of his fascination ultimately stemmed from his desire to understand her life and cultural context, but, at times like this, it was plain to see that he was genuinely excited by the technology as well. "It'll make sense when it starts," she assured him. "You're going to love this. It's called _The Wizard of Oz._ It was released a few decades ago, so movies have developed a lot since then in terms of picture quality and realism, but it's a classic for a reason."

"It's about magic?"

"Kind of. Different characters try to use magic to achieve their goals. The film itself is really more about friendship and personal development, though." Anticipating the opportunity to witness his introduction to something that had been such a normal part of her childhood, Lily hurriedly set up the movie before hastening back over to the lounge to cuddle up next to him. It didn't take long for them to settle into the position they'd both quickly determined was most comfortable for them. His arm wrapped around her shoulders like a warm blanket, and she lay her head against his chest. The sound of his beating heart rumbled against her ear, and she smiled at the intimacy of it. It was such a mutually vulnerable position, really, and she was glad that – after all they'd been through – they could both open themselves up like that.

She couldn't wait to see the understanding dawn on his face as everything she'd described clicked into place. They would be able to nonchalantly allude to the girl who wasn't in Kansas anymore or to the Scarecrow who just wanted a brain or to the witch who melted under the purity of water and smile at the memory of exploring that story together. He would probably add We're Off to See the Wizard to his repertoire of songs to belt out in the shower, confusing the boys in neighbouring cubicles who didn't know what yellow brick roads had to do with anything.

He would _understand_ – and, knowing him, he would cherish that newfound understanding, that heightened connection.

She snuggled closer to him as the all-too-familiar opening started and he gasped at the sight. Her parents liked him. Her sister didn't. Yet, however much she would have loved for them to all be one big happy family, she found that – at the heart of it – she didn't really care.

All that mattered was them.

* * *

A/N: Written for the Cluedo/Clue Challenge for the prompts 'Lily Potter (née Evans)', 'confused', and 'scarecrow'.

This is the couple that first brought me to fanfic all the way back in 2008, so it's exciting to actually write about them again. I don't have any definite plans about what the next one-shot will be about or when I'll get around to writing it, however; this is mostly just so that I can keep any short pieces I write about them together rather than having them clutter up my profile.


	2. Flower

A/N: Sorry for this one, but I thought of this extended metaphor, and then…

Character Versatility Challenge – prompts: Lily Evans Potter, James Potter

* * *

Their love was like a precious flower. The seeds were flung out by a careless hand that cared not where they landed, but they found soft soil to sink into and take root in. It then grew out of them, grew out of their pain and suffering and baggage, and emerged from its cold confines. Under their watchful gazes, it blossomed and preened and lit up the entire room with simple-minded joy and wonder. It was the centrepiece of their lives and their souls.

But then its petals started to droop and coil in upon themselves. The very things that they had sworn would never happen to them came to pass, and those things weighed down on the once-strong stem like an overpowering sun. Time ticked on, and the flower suffered. It shrunk and wilted and died and brought painful nostalgia to all those who had once appreciated its beauty and truth.

And, after its deterioration, all that was left was the task of throwing it away and rinsing the vase out and storing that glass contraption in a secure cupboard in the hopes that it would one day be used again and that, next time, the flower might last.


	3. Fire and Air

He was fire.

When they first met, he burned like an uncontrollable bushfire. He was zealous and alluring and beautiful, but he was also unyielding and dangerous and repellent. Her classmates _oohed_ and _aahed_ at the magnificence of his blaze as he charred the trees around him. She, however, was more vigilant. All she saw was the destruction and pain he wrought on any he deemed deserving of punishment – or, rather, not deserving of exculpation. And, to her, that overshadowed even the prettiest of dancing light shows.

By their seventh year, the flames had settled until he was more of a bonfire. He was still passionate and warm and enticing, but the perils of getting too close had all but faded; the possibility of being burned by his carelessness or maliciousness was, while still present, only slight. The dancing tendrils of flame were still a sight to behold. While they were, perhaps, not as flamboyant as they had once been, they had an undercurrent of authenticity that made them all the more compelling. Remembering the raging inferno he'd once been, she fought against the burgeoning attraction, but she eventually caved in and stepped into the warm halo of his influence.

Then darkness fell upon them like a mourning shroud, rendering public displays of light perilous, but he kept burning steadily like a candle of hope piercing through the shadows of their little cottage. His single flame flickered all over the place in its desire to break free of its glass confines and return to what it once was, but it still saw them both through the night. Whenever the devastating dimness threatened to overwhelm them, he was there to chase it away with humour and mirth. So, together, they survived.

She was air.

When they first met, she was like a fresh breeze. Their world was tense and antiquated and ridden with pollution, but she was lithe and liberal and clean. In many ways, she was the opposite of everything he'd come to expect. She made an effort to learn their customs, yet she seemed to flip them over and subvert them as if they were mere leaves drifting along in her presence. Her willingness to flitter around as she saw fit irked him when it came to her decision to maintain friendships with people he would deem unacceptable company, but she was, on the whole, utterly invigorating.

Their fifth year was the first time he truly saw her spiral into the raging tempest he quickly learned she could be. Everyone steered clear of the violent winds that seemed to surround them as her words brutally pelted him with hail. The verbal projectiles were hard and sharp and icy against his skin, and he almost buckled under the weight of the onslaught. He brushed it off as baseless hormonal fury, but part of him knew that she was right and her swirling ire was justified. It took a lot to truly infuriate her, but he seemed prone to accidentally happening across a way to incite gales.

Then darkness fell upon the land and threatened to suffocate them under its weight, but she, despite being beaten down until she was reduced to the very essence of herself, persevered and became like oxygen to him. No matter how trying their ordeals, she stayed steady, like a never-ending ode to perseverance and fortitude. Her simple presence kept them both alive and breathing, and it saw them through the day. So, together, they survived.

He was fire, and she was air. Together, they waxed and waned and lived and loved.

Together, they survived.

* * *

A/N: To counteract the break up in the last one, here's an AU in which they survive the war.


	4. Fortress

Their love was a towering fortress. They built it slowly, and they built it on the remnants of personal conflicts and animosity, but they built it nevertheless. Moving the stone and cementing the blocks into place with mortar was long and tireless work, especially when they had to clear the ground of the debris as they went, but it was rewarding. Each slab of stone symbolised a little piece of their hopes and dreams, and they watched as those visions slowly rose up before them.

For a time, they lived in the fortification without issue. It was beautiful and secluded and peaceful, and they adored it. Endless green pastures stretched out around them, the sun warmed them with its soft kisses, and the moat that they had so meticulously dug out and filled sparkled like blue glitter. To them, it was pure bliss and every delight they could think of.

Then the battle cries sounded across the paddocks, and their adversaries gathered around their fiefdom's outskirts and began to wage war against them. Catapults flung rocks at their bulwarks and watchtowers in an attempt to tear their relationship apart and render them defenceless lambs ready for the slaughter. Cacophonous noise rumbled through the fortress, and bit of stone broke off under the assault, but they closed their eyes and, like the reckless Gryffindors they were, fired back with all they had.

At the closing of the day, they opened their eyes again and surveyed the damage. Their dreams and hopes had been torn apart, but they were still there.

Their defences had stayed strong, and their love had stayed true.


	5. Thunder

7 March 1976

He can never think clearly when she's around. It's as if she's a pure naked flame, and he can't get close to her without feeling like all semblance of rational thought has burned away, leaving nothing but ash and smoke in its wake. That smoke wisps through the air and creates the illusion of confidence, but it can never make up for his lack of real composure. Instead of the charm that he's been taught to use on command, all that comes out is inept bluster. And, given that a large part of what attracts him to Lily is her perceptiveness and refusal to take crap from anyone, empty words without meaning never cuts it with her. She invariably shuts him down with an unimpressed glower or cutting barbs that leave him floundering to maintain his poise.

The other Marauders say he is obsessed and should move on. He's lost count of the number of times they've ganged up on him in an attempt to talk him out of his crush. It's gotten to the point where he can anticipate their arguments before they even begin; Sirius will exasperatedly state that he doesn't understand James' fixation with her, Remus will empathise with the feeling but insist that it will never be reciprocated, and Peter will query why he's so willing to publicly embarrass himself on a fool's mission. The basis of their opinions differ, but their counsel is the same; stay away from her and move on.

But he knows he never will. While he understands their reasons and has to admit, at least deep down, that it would probably be better for him to heed their advice, moving on is simply not possible for him. To him, Lily Evans is like a dream, idyllic and intoxicating and calling to him whenever he closes his eyes. He knows she isn't perfect – far from it; she is headstrong and self-righteous and far too willing to give second chances to people she deems even remotely morally redeemable. But she's also beautiful and considerate and sassy and intelligent, and he's so far gone that he can't see himself ever waking up from this blissful sleep.

* * *

25 June 1977

She curls up in the armchair, holding a transfigured bunny plushie against her chest as if it could fight away the darkness licking at the base of her mind. The hush of the empty common room creates a bubble of peace around her, but it does little to help her sour mood. Her only relief is the knowledge that her housemates are all outside and are unlikely to return anytime soon. Wanting to celebrate the end of the school year and soak up as much of the sun as they could, they decided to have a massive inter-house water fight on the grounds. It was a tempting offer, but she, knowing she would be unable to muster up even a façade of cheerfulness for long, begged them off.

 _It's not like a mudblood like her is ever going to get anything above a low-level desk job,_ she thinks, repeating the words she heard someone mutter to their friend on their way out of their final exam.

Usually, the whispered barbs and thinly veiled insults don't get to her anymore; she's heard the words so many times that they now seem to blur together and, in doing so, to lose all independent meaning. Her brain still registers that the comments are _intended_ to slight her, and takes note of who's saying it and who's letting them, but they no longer achieve their desired effect. There are, after all, only so many times you can walk over rocks before your feet grow accustomed to their sting.

They might not bother her, but the knowledge of the sheer amount of hate out there does. She's well aware that there is a small but vocal portion of society who would love for her to just disappear and that, while there is a similarly sized and equally militant subset who would defend her, most of society doesn't much care either way. It's alright while she's in school; she has Dumbledore and Slughorn and her friends and even the Marauders to act as a buffer between them and her. So, however demoralising their antipathy might be, she knows that the Muggle-borns there are safe. But she also knows that they won't be within the safety of the school's grounds forever, and that they will be exposed to a whole palette of the shades and nuances of subtle bloodism when they leave. A horde of assailants will eventually come crashing through that carefully manned bulwark, and she's terrified of the devastation and casualties that that is sure to cause.

Simple animosity is one thing to endure; it's trying and hurtful, but it leaves the person open to return fire. Subtle discrimination and indirect sabotage is harder to counter, and she has no idea how she and her peers will contend with it. And it's _that_ uncertainty that's playing on her mind when she should really be carelessly appreciating the warm June day rather than lying, curled up, in a cold common room.

She's tired of shouldering the weight of constant animosity, and she's sick of having to be constantly alert, and she's scared of what the future might hold.

The sound of footsteps burst her bubble, and she turns until her tear-streaked face is hidden against the cushions of the chair and she might pass for being asleep. _Stupid,_ she berates herself. _You should have just stayed in your dormitory._

"Evans?"

She almost groans at the sound of Potter's soft murmur; the knowledge that reacting will make things worse for her is the only thing that holds her back. Out of all of the people who could have found her, he has to be one of the worst. Technically, she supposes, he's better than Black or Pettigrew, both of whom would have pranked rather than just annoyed her, but that's not saying much.

Fighting to keep herself still, she tracks the sound of his progress across the room. Surprised relief – and something that feels uncomfortably like disappointment – flashes through her at the idea that he might be leaving it at that. As much as she wants him gone, part of her is desperate for company and empathy, no matter whom it might come from.

He whispers something that she can't quite make out, and then she hears what sounds like rustling fabric. Curiosity, as relentlessly compelling as catnip, calls for her to open her eyes and see what he's doing, but she resists it. Her answer comes anyway, however, when a warm covering is laid over her. Panic rushes through her at first – one can never be careful enough around a Marauder – but she quickly calms down when she realises that it's just a blanket.

 _It's a blanket,_ she thinks with an unforeseen rush of amity. She was fine without it – she'd cast a minor warming charm on herself as soon as it started to get chilly – but she appreciates the gesture nonetheless.

As his hands adjust the blanket so that it covers her more fully, she almost expects him to take advantage of the situation by using it as an excuse to fondle her hair or body. Displaying a surprising amount of tenderness, however, he merely encases her in its warmth before gently whispering, "Sweet dreams, Lily," and leaving the common room.

* * *

15 December 1977

He makes her smile. Not just little smiles, either, though he does that sometimes too, but full-on beaming rays of light that almost blind him with their exuberant joy. It amazes him that she can be so genuinely jubilant despite all that she's going through; then again, he rather suspects that she would say it was just his pigheaded refusal to take things seriously rubbing off on her.

If that's true, he's awfully proud of it, especially now that he can hear begrudging fondness in her voice whenever she says anything remotely insulting to him. After all, the insults aren't quite true anymore. He is still aggressively cheerful and mischievous and obsessed with Quidditch, and he knows she is aware that he still hexes the Slytherins occasionally, even if she doesn't say anything about it. But he undoubtedly grew up – or, as Sirius would say, grew dull – over the summer. Regularly transforming into their Animagus forms gives all of them heightened senses, even in their human form, so he heard Lily's irregular breathing and noticed how she tensed up when he put the blanket on her just a few months ago. The knowledge that her hatred of him was so fierce that she would prefer to suffer in silence than to talk to him and that, _worse,_ she thought he might hurt her when she was supposedly sleeping, gave him a lot to think about. It was the first time he realised that their discord wasn't just squabbling over senses of humour and honour; it was the first time he realised that he and his friends might, in her mind, be as dangerous as the bad guys. So he pretended like he thought she was indeed asleep and left and then, over the holidays, he focused on changing himself.

Watching her beam as a result of something he's said, he can't help but think that enduring Sirius' mockery and Remus' knowing looks was worth it. Six years in the same house as Lily Evans, one of which he was actively pursuing her, and he never actually managed to have a decent conversation with her. Now, after a revelation and a summer spent putting that into effect, they're at the stage where they're actually friends. And, while he still fancies her, he's grown up enough to be able to value that for what it is rather than for what it might eventually be.

"You know," she says, still beaming at him in a way that makes his stomach twist, "I thought Dumbledore had gone mad when I first heard you were Head Boy. It made sense in an odd sort of way – you're a pureblood and a Marauder, so you have the respect of most of our classmates – but it still seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, especially with me as the Head Girl. But now…"

"You can't resist me," he jokes with a cocky grin.

He expects her to laugh again. They know one another well enough now that she can tell when he's jesting, so he genuinely assumes that she'll just roll her eyes, laugh, and give him another compliment-disguised-as-an-insult.

To his surprise, she merely watches him, looking slightly perturbed, before saying succinctly, "No, I guess I can't."

* * *

31 December 1977

Music and chatter resonate throughout the common room as she, still laughing at the sight of Sirius energetically lip-syncing on top of a stage he transfigured from a book, makes her way over to the snack table. Despite her initial concerns at the practicality of throwing an all-ages Gryffindor New Year's Eve party, it appears to be going smoothly. Apart from a quick rush to find an Anti-Nausea Potion for a first year who ate way too many sweets, there have been no real incidents, leaving her free to enjoy herself. Although she can't see herself ever telling them – they'd probably take it as an invitation to make it a regular occurrence – she has to admit that the Marauders would, if they ever found themselves in need of work, make excellent party planners.

"How's your night going, girls?" she asks as she notices two second years hanging out near the bowl of chips.

"Good," Sarah replies, her face flushed from all of the excitement. "We were playing Truth or Dare, but we decided to have a snack break."

Smirking knowingly, she asks, "Is that why I saw Aaron attempt to do a somersault earlier?" The resulting giggle is all the answer she needs. Snagging a caramel cupcake from the table, she adds, "Just don't push yourselves too far, yeah? And come see me or James if there are any problems." She winks at them mischievously. "Although, personally, I'd love to see someone best Sirius at lip-syncing."

They grin and cheerfully chorus their assent.

"Well," she replies, "I'm going to take my own advice and go talk to James. Enjoy the party."

Ignoring their tittering at the idea, she takes a bite of the rich treat and heads over to where her fellow Head is leaning against a wall. The sight of him, his striking black hair messed up as always and his brown eyes alight with mirth as they follow Sirius across the makeshift stage, draws her in. His attractiveness has always been undeniable, but she used to be able to overlook it; it used to be the kind of frustrating truth that she knew but that was so irrelevant to her life that she could easily put it aside. Ever since their friendship first started blossoming, however, it's become much harder for her to pass it over.

"Hey," she murmurs, leaning against the patch of stone next to him. After dancing wildly alongside Mary and Frank for so long, the feeling of the cold stone pressed against her back is as refreshing as an icepack.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Immensely. You know, it's practically midnight already. Shouldn't you be searching for someone to kiss?"

He shrugs carelessly, but his tone is tense when he says simply, "I'm not in the mood."

She looks up at him in surprise. "Really? But you're the most superstitious person I – " Her voice cuts off as she notices the look in his eyes, and, even though she knows it's anatomically impossible, she feels as if her whole body has somehow stopped working. His face is almost forcibly blank, but his gaze is heated and intense. It as if it is afire, and its flickering tongues are sucking her into its depths, and she's at risk of being consumed.

For once in her life, the idea of being burned is actually appealing.

"Kissing someone when the year ticks over is supposed to bring you good fortune in relationships over the next year," James replies, keeping his quiet voice steady even as the music reaches its crescendo, "but I wouldn't think starting off the year by kissing a girl you don't fancy would give you luck with a girl you do fancy."

"What if you kissed the – "

"Ten!" Sirius yells, breaking off mid-song to start the countdown.

" – girl you _do_ fancy?"

Someone has cut the music off, and the other students have joined in with Sirius, so the shout of, "Nine!" echoes throughout the room.

He shrugs. "Depends if she – "

"Eight!"

" – fancies me back."

"Seven!"

"I think she might."

"Six!"

There isn't a single trace of his usual humour on his face. "Oh, you do?"

"Five!"

Staring into that fiery gaze, she asserts, "I do."

"Four!"

"At least," she swiftly adds, " _I_ do."

"Three!"

A pleased grin spreads across his face like an invasion, and his eyes crinkle down at her.

"Two!"

"I'm glad to hear that," he says.

"One!"

" _One_ ," he whispers a split second later.

Cheers erupt around them, and his arms slowly slip around her waist as she steps closer to him. They're both hesitant and uncertain – it feels as if he isn't quite sure how to hold her, and she knows _she_ sure doesn't know how to hold _him_ – but she feels strangely comfortable in their gracelessness as they both lean in and their lips meet. Only a few moments elapse before they, not wanting to put on a show for their housemates, pull apart, but those few seconds are electric.

After all they've been through, it feels like coming home.

* * *

30 May 1978

They watch their friends muck around as they recline, his back propped up against the tree while hers rests on his chest, and enjoy the fading sunlight. Their hands rest in her lap as their fingers play together in a slow dance of moving digits.

He's struck by how different this post-exam period feels in comparison to previous ones; it's the first time they've spent it together, and that makes all the difference in the world. It's infinitely better than spending the end of fifth year at home after being suspended for the incident with Snape, and, as much as he loves the thrill of pranking, he would much rather relax with Lily at the end of a week-long prank extravaganza than drag the jokes out to their bitter end.

"I want to fight," she murmurs, breaking his quiet reverie with the efficiency of a well-timed Shattering Charm.

He knows what she means, of course. The tension that has been brewing for years is too far cooked for anyone to mistake its heady odours for something else. Still, he can't resist saying innocuously, "What, with me? I thought we were past that."

She scoffs and, after tilting her head back until she can see him, makes a show of rolling her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he admits, even though he wishes he could feign ignorance and postpone the conversation until the war's over and there's no longer any need for it, "I do."

"I thought about your offer." Her tone is bland and unfathomable, the way it always gets when she's bracing herself to tell someone unpleasant news.

In an instant, he knows what she's going to say – but, then again, he always did, even when he first implored her to take the time to consider it before giving him her answer. "Lily – "

Cutting him off abruptly as she shifts away from him until they're facing one another, still attached by their hands but otherwise separated, she continues, "I know it's dangerous, and I get why you're afraid for me. But you _know_ me, James. I'd never be happy sitting off in the countryside somewhere while my friends are hunted down. You wouldn't be, either."

"I hadn't ruled out sneaking back in to fight, no."

"So you understand why I have to stay?"

"Of course. I knew it before I even made the offer. I just felt like I had to give you the chance to stay out of this."

With an uncharacteristic undertone of bitterness, she replies, "They took that choice away from me the moment they decided that the fact that my parents are Muggles somehow makes me less than them."

"I'm terrified," he admits. "We go home in a week, and then…"

Her fingers stroke his soothingly, and she pulls his hands up to hers to kiss them tenderly. "I'm not. Not of anything. Not right now, anyway. You lot are usually so bold, so unrepentant, and it rubs off on me. When I'm with you, I just can't – "

"You've always been pretty fearless."

"About little things," she agrees, "but not about anything as big as this. But, being with you, the concerns all fade away, because I know we can do this – together."

"Together," he echoes, but his meaning is far from hollow as he tugs her back into his arms and, after placing a gentle kiss on her temple, rests his head against her shoulder. _It is,_ he thinks, _like with the rest of the boys. Apart, we're fragile little strings of thread. Together, we're strong lengths of rope._

* * *

A/N: Written for the Lyric Inspired Drabble Competition II for the song Thunder by Katy McAllister. She's one of my favourite artists so, if you haven't heard any of her music before, I'd highly recommend checking out her YouTube channel.


	6. Foreign Languages

_He's like a foreign language,_ she thinks, watching him intently as he bounds around the room with a broad grin plastered on his face. Just six months ago, she would have thought that his apparent utter disregard for the severity of the situation was rude and callous. She knew the relevant words and grammar before, but she wouldn't have had a good enough gasp on his contextual features to recognise that it was just his way of trying to help by lightening the mood. Now, however, she knows better. A glance at Remus reveals that James' plan is, in fact, working, and a tender smile tugs at her lips as she returns to tracking her boyfriend's progress.

It took a while for them to learn one another to the extent where they could communicate with ease. He was the first to bother trying, but, while she was initially uninterested, it gave them a basis to work with. Their unequal levels of investment in the process meant that he learned her much quicker than she learned him, but they eventually got there.

Neither of them know everything about the other, of course. They've both become bilingual, but new words and constructions and grammatical rules and slang occasionally crop up and surprise them, and Lily doubts that that will change anytime soon. _Of course,_ she thinks, _that's part of the appeal of being with him. I can depend on him, but I know he'll never lose his ability to surprise me._

Looking at James' unveiled joy as he notes the grin on Remus' face, Lily can't help but think that all of the confusion and effort and miscommunications over the years were more than worth it.

She has long since known that she adores him, but, in that moment, she discovers that there is something else lurking just under the surface, warming her up like a cup of tea. _I love you,_ she thinks _._ Her smile broadens to a giddy beam as she anticipates telling him just that.


	7. Snowball Fight

A/N: Character Versatility Challenge - prompts: Frank Longbottom, Alice Longbottom

* * *

Lily smirked as a charmed snowball smacked James in the arm. As much as she adored her husband, she had to admit that he still got excessively cocky when it came to anything even remotely sporty, so she always enjoyed watching other people put up a good fight against him. And Frank, for all of his insistence that he was poor at winter sports, never failed to do just that. Skiing might not be his thing, and he was atrocious at Quidditch, but he was a formidable adversary when it came to snowball fights.

Wincing at the impact, yet still grinning from the thrill of the challenge, James hunched down as he ran to take cover behind the nearest tree. As soon as he had reached temporary safety, he crouched down and peeked around the thick trunk as he tried to locate his opponent.

A sharp whistle pierced the air beside her, and Alice, her voice filled with mirth, called out, "He's near the back of the garage!"

"OI!" Frank yelled back as James, finally spotting him, called out a thank you. "Whose wife are you, anyway?"

Alice blew him an exaggerated kiss. "Love you!"

Laughter bubbled out of Lily at the sight of their antics. "You two are so adorable together."

"Well, that's good to hear, seeing as how we're married and all."

Noticing the way Alice's gaze followed the action enviously, Lily felt a flush of guilt run through her. The girls usually joined in on the festivities, but Lily had told Alice that she was feeling under the weather that day and so would rather watch the three of them play. Alice, of course, being the absolute dear that she was, had decided to stay with and, despite Lily's protests, fuss over her instead. Unbeknownst to her, however, the real reason that Lily had decided to forgo the game wasn't so much a stomach bug as it was a _different_ kind of 'delicate condition'. Lily was actually feeling perfectly fine; she just didn't want to risk taking a magically propelled speeding snowball to her uterine area. "Are you sure you don't want to join them?" she asked Alice. "I wouldn't mind."

"I'm happier staying with you."

Even though she knew Alice well enough to know that that was true, she felt like the older witch was concealing _something_ from her, as if she were telling Lily only part of the truth. But Lily couldn't work out what Alice's motive for keeping something as simple as that from her might be.

Her ponderings were cut short by the sound of a window creaking open behind them. A voice that Lily immediately recognised as belonging to _one_ of the Prewett twins called out, "Girls! Do either of you want a firewhiskey?"

Alice and Lily shook their heads at one another, and Alice twisted around in her chair and shouted back, "We're fine!"

"You sure? …Fine then, suit yourselves."

"You know," Lily observed, examining her friend carefully for any of her tells, "I've never known you to turn down firewhiskey before."

"I could say the same about you." As Alice started to turn back around in her chair, she flippantly added, "I guess the whole settling down thing is changing – "

The older girl seemed to freeze in place. Had she been coated in white, she might have even resembled one of the snowwomen the two friends had built earlier that same day. As Lily's mind quickly fit the pieces together, she stared at the back of Alice's still form in shock.

After a moment, Alice turned to face her again, gaping at her with wide eyes.

"No way," Lily said.

" _You too_?"

"We just found out the other week."

Alice shuffled her lounge chair closer to the redhead before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, "Was yours planned?"

"Kind of. Well, mostly. James' parents aren't planning on having any more children, so he's the last direct descendant of the House of Potter. As his family have historically had trouble falling pregnant, we thought it would take us a few years to actually conceive, so we thought we might as well start early. We knew there was a chance I'd fall pregnant right away, and we were alright with that, but we were hoping it wouldn't happen for a year or two."

"Ours wasn't," Alice admitted. "We both got sloshed on Halloween and we forgot to take the potions. Then, a few weeks later…"

Lily's gaze flicked over to their warring husbands before making its way back to Alice. "Have you talked to Frank about it?"

"Yeah, he knows. He's excited at the idea, even if the timing has left a lot to be desired. We wanted to wait until the war was over."

"It's not a good time to have a child," Lily agreed. "Plus, we'll both be out of the action for a few months, at least, which sucks."

"We'll be the women sitting at home while the menfolk fight," Alice said with faux seriousness, before scrunching up her face in abject distaste.

"Vive les gender roles," Lily said dryly before raising her glass in a mock toast. Snickering, Alice clinked her own glass against it.

They both took a drink of their water but, within moments, Alice whined, "You know what the worst part is? It's that you can't just get blind drunk to forget about it for a night. Frank got pissed after I told him. Not immediately after, mind you – he was supportive and lovely and all of that first – but a few days later. Meanwhile, here I am, unable to have even one measly little alcoholic beverage."

"Yeah," Lily agreed. "There's that, too. It sure made Sirius' birthday week awkward – you know how he gets when he's drunk; he feels like he's on top of the world and he wants everyone else to be that way too – until I just blurted out that I was pregnant and that _that_ was why I didn't want to have anything to drink."

Alice grinned appreciatively. "I bet he took that well."

"He was ecstatic. As soon as we told him that we wanted him to be the godfather, he started bounding around everywhere and kissing everyone. Speaking of godparents," Lily said, carefully placing her cup of water on the small table they'd conjured to sit between them, "would you and Frank do us the honour of being our child's second set? James and I wanted to wait to ask you until I was further along, but given that you already _know_ …"

Alice grinned and leapt towards her friend, narrowly avoiding the table in her rush to get to her.

Throwing her arms around the younger witch, she hugged her tightly as she said, her wavering voice belying the technical harshness of her words, "Only if you do the same for ours."

"It would be an honour," Lily said as she squeezed her back. After a glance over at the continuing snowball fight, however, she added sheepishly, "Perhaps we shouldn't tell them we've already talked about the 'godparents' thing, though."

Groaning, Alice dropped her head onto Lily's shoulder. "We kind of butchered that one, didn't we?"


	8. Nice Acoustics

A/N: Hogwarts Writing Club Competition - prompt: acoustics

Word count: 330

* * *

The deep tenor of the ocarina harmonised with the smooth dynamism of the viola to create a peaceful but poignant melody that flowed through the room like a gentle breeze. Lily swayed gently as she moved her fingers to alternatively cover and reveal the little holes that controlled her breath's passage through its ceramic hull.

It still amazed her that, had Sirius not let slip the fact that James had been forced to learn the viola as a child, she might never have found out about her boyfriend's aptitude for the instrument. To her mind, that would have been tragic. Even though they hadn't been playing together for very long, she was already infatuated with the sense of intimacy and warmth it inspired within her. And, in such a dark time, love was the kind of thing people clung to like a lifeline. She couldn't bear the thought that a lack of communication might have kept that joyfulness from them.

Someone moved at the door, and her gaze flicked up to see Benjy Fenwick making his way into the room. "Don't stop," he said as they both started lowering their instruments. "I'm just here to grab something."

Obliging him, James counted them back in as the older wizard made his way over to the small writing desk and grabbed something from it.

"Nice acoustics," Benjy commented on his way out.

Unable to speak without disrupting the music flowing forth from the ocarina, Lily merely nodded. James, however, quickly thanked him.

 _Benjy's more accurate than he realises,_ Lily thought as she blew out a series of quick puffs. Their music wasn't the only thing that meshed together to create something special; in her totally biased opinion, they themselves did too. Despite all of their differences and fiery clashes, their personalities harmonised in a way that she had never expected them to.

 _Yes,_ she thought as she watched her boyfriend play a series of trills, _nice acoustics is exactly what we have._


	9. The Baby

Lily nestled the baby boy deeper into the cradle of her arms. His tiny little body, so beautiful in its innocence and helplessness, contrasted against the pale blue blankets she'd knitted for him. Learning to knit had been time consuming, but it was worth it to see the little darling all wrapped up in it and to know that he was warm because of something she'd done.

Holding an infant had become like second nature to her, but she still was filled with a sense of wonder and joy whenever she snuggled him up against her. The sight of his little fingers curled up against his smooth cheek reminded her of the fact that she and James, despite all of the danger and trials they'd faced with their heads held high, were actually getting the chance to experience this beautiful feeling.

"He needs a name," James said, leaning against her to get a better look at the sleeping babe. Even though he'd been home from the hospital for well over a week, the infant still didn't have a name. Personally, Lily thought it was a case of too many cooks in the kitchen; a multi-sided debate raged on as people argued for and against particular names, and nobody had been able to come up with a name that pleased all invested parties. "We can't just keep referring to him as The Baby forever. How weird will _that_ be when he's forty?"

"I'm sure we could come up with a nickname by then," she joked. "We could start calling him Bee now and see if it sticks."

"Like a bumblebee?" James asked, frowning. "But they're yellow and black; that's practically setting him up to go into Hufflepuff."

"There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff," she protested. "Frank was a Hufflepuff, and you like him well enough."

"It's not a _bad_ house," he explained, "but it's not Gryffindor, either. If he's going to be named something that's associated with a particular house, it'll be something like Leon."

"Seriously, James? You want to go with an explicit lion connection?"

"Hey, I'm still all for Elvendork."

Lily sighed as she gently rocked the baby in question. "He is not going to be called Elvendork. I thought you were over that by now."

"You never get over a name like Elvendork," he replied with an impish smirk.

"I agree," she shot back, "because it's too horrible a name to get over."

"I don't insult your name suggestions!"

"Yes, you do. Remember when you said the name Gilbert made you think of a half-eaten fish?"

He scrunched up his face. "Yeah, I still stand by that one."

"And that's where the trouble lies. Besides, don't pretend I don't know Sirius dared you to convince someone to use that name; Remus told me. If you want to win that bet so much, win it with someone else's baby."

"It still would be awesome to see McGonagall's face when she first found out."

Despite her complete hatred of the ridiculous name, Lily couldn't help but snicker at that thought. It really would be amusing to see people's reactions to the name as they struggled to find a way to politely ask what the blazes they'd been thinking when _that_ happened. "We could still fool people into thinking that's his name."

James grinned. "I'll tell them his nickname is Dorky."

Still chortling at the prospect of tricking people into thinking that James had won, they both retreated into their own thoughts. Lily's mind returned to the dilemma of finding a baby name that might possibly satisfy everybody involved. She had plenty of names in mind, but she was, unsurprisingly, struggling to find a good compromise. Everybody just wanted different things. She knew that, at the end of the day, it was his parents' decision, but she couldn't resist getting sucked into the mass of people suggesting and critiquing potential names. Sirius didn't want him to be called anything even remotely traditional; James preferred old-fashioned or meaningful names. Remus wanted the baby to be named after some obscure literary character; Lily, for all that she empathised with that, was scared that an obscure name would just give his future classmates convenient fodder for harassment. And, of course, meanwhile -

"He's perfect, isn't he?" James asked, his breath sending shivers scurrying across her neck.

She loved the way he was still able to make her feel so alive with just a simple gesture. Refusing to turn to look him in the eye, she fought back a smirk and replied saucily, "Of course he is. He looks nothing like _you_."

"Oi! That hurts." He clutched at his chest in an exaggerated show of pain before returning his attention back to the baby and saying in a tone that implied he was imparting some great bit of wisdom, "A word from one wizard to another: the lady holding you has a sharp tongue that should be avoided at almost all costs."

With a laugh, Lily asked, "Almost?"

"Almost for me, anyway." He winked at her, and a faint blush tinted her face pink.

Quickly regaining her composure, she told the baby, "Don't worry; you'll inherit some wit from me. It'll just be another way you differ from him, my sweet."

Grinning, James bumped his shoulder against hers, careful not to knock her so hard that it would jostle the baby. "Or you might inherit your mother's studiousness." 

"Or both. But one thing's for certain; with so many people around to absolutely adore you, you'll have everything you ever need."

"Don't go spoiling him too much," James warned her, but she could tell from the way his expression melted whenever the baby's brown eyes blinked up at him that he wouldn't be able to resist the little one either. "We don't want him to get a big head."

She ran her hand over the little tufts of chocolate brown hair that had already started to emerge from the top of his head. It was hard to make them out against his scalp, but that made finding them feel all the more special. "I don't think there's any chance of that happening. His mother will see to it that it doesn't."

"She is rather forceful when she wants to be," James agreed. "She actually intimidated Sirius into being nice Kreacher the other day, and you know how much he detests that house-elf."

"She's a sweetheart," Lily replied, smiling fondly as her thoughts wandered to her son and daughter-in-law. Despite her reservations at their decision to marry young - it had worked for Lily and James, but she'd initially been worried that her oldest son had just been blindly following in their footsteps rather than finding his own way - she had never doubted the close bond that Harry shared with Hermione. Her as-yet-unnamed grandson wriggled in her arms, and his warm brown eyes opened to stare up at them. "Look, he's awake. Do you want a turn holding him?"

The broad smile on James' face made it quite clear that, yes, he definitely did.


	10. A Trip to the Zoo

A/N: Hogwarts Writing Club Competition – prompt: animal. Word count: 430.

* * *

Harry slipped his hand into his father's grip as they made their way through the winding paths of the zoo. His legs had grown tired from all of the walking they'd done that morning, but he was eager to keep exploring the mazelike area that seemed to hold so many incredible delights.

His dad peered down at him and, with a fond smile, asked, "Tired?"

"No," Harry lied. The five-year-old was so focused on moving his feet ever onwards that he didn't notice the knowing glance his parents shared.

"Let's go see the snake enclosure," his mother suggested. "It's just over there. Would you like that, Harry?"

The young boy nodded enthusiastically at the idea. He had seen photos of snakes in storybooks, but he had never seen a _real_ one before. From what his father and his friends had told him about snakes, he was expecting them to be more unnerving in person. "Yes," he said, all thoughts of his erstwhile weariness gone as he bounced up and down on his heels and grinned up at his parents.

His father's voice was clipped when he replied, "Let's go, then," but he didn't protest the decision, instead letting Harry tug him towards the building.

xoxox

As soon as they entered the dimly lit room, Harry dropped his father's hand and ran to the nearest enclosure. Lily smiled at his impatience, but, before she could catch up to the boy, James put his hand out to delay her.

"Snakes? Really?" he whispered.

With a casual shrug, she replied, "They're just animals."

"He'd better not get into Slytherin because of this. If he does – "

She scoffed at him. "Even if he did, you wouldn't do anything, because he'd still be our son. Besides, it's already clear where he'll end up; seeing a few snakes at the zoo isn't going to make any difference to his Sorting."

"You never know," James replied sullenly. "He didn't like the lions we saw earlier."

"He liked their manes," Lily offered up as consolation, "and the lions were eating at the time, so what do you expect?"

"Mum, Dad, the snake is moving! Come and see!"

She could tell that James wasn't convinced, but he let the matter drop as they made their way over to their son, whose face was pressed up against the glass as he watched the scaled animal slither along a thick branch. Although she knew that the Marauders would renew their disparagement of Slytherin House in the coming days, she was content to put the matter aside for the time being.


	11. Cricket

Written for the Hogwarts Writing Club Competition for the prompt 'unit'. Word count: 530.

For my grandfather, avid sports fan and overall awesome man. Three days ago, the world lost a bit of its lustre.

Cricket!AU. Muggle!AU. Australian!AU.

* * *

The midday sun shone down on the cricket pitch like a spotlight pointing her to her destination. Ignoring the smell of manure that had permeated the park for as long as she could remember, Lily made her way over to where her father was standing in a huddle with the teenage boys whose cricket team he'd volunteered to coach. The seventeen-year-old watched on fondly as he regaled them with plans and strategies, punctuating his points with robust hand gestures.

Two of the boys spotted her and did a strange shuffle-nod-wink thing, but her father didn't appear to notice their clumsy attempt to catch her attention.

"So this is where you spend all your time nowadays," she teased him when his lecture dipped into a momentary lull.

Her father turned around at the sound of her voice. "Lily. What are you doing here, sweetheart?"

"You missed a signature on the application," she explained, raising the stapled documents and pen in emphasis, "so Mum asked me to run it over."

"There were way too many lines to sign on this thing," he grumbled, before sighing and adding, "Boys, why don't you go for a jog? Keep in line. If you let anyone fall behind or pull ahead, you'll all get laps. When you're on that pitch, you are a unit, and you need to learn to act like one. There will be no more showing off like there was last time."

The boys groused under their breath, but they promptly got into formation and started to jog across the field.

"There was a problem last time?" Lily asked as she handed the paper and pen over to her father, indicating where the unfilled space was so he wouldn't have to search for it.

"Yeah. Most of them were good sports, but Sirius and James – the haughty-looking one and the one with hair like a windswept llama – were determined to show off to the point that it almost lost the team the game." She snickered at the description as he leant down to use his knee to support the paper. A few seconds later, he straightened back up and continued, "See over there? I - SIRIUS! JAMES! STOP SABOTAGING YOUR TEAM!"

Sure enough, Lily noted, the two boys who had been trying to get her attention earlier appeared to be purposefully messing up the exercise. The rest of the team were running in a straight line, but they kept dropping back or pulling ahead so that the others had to constantly adjust their speed as well. "I'll say," she agreed.

"Well," he commented, "James seems to have taken a liking for you. Maybe you should come to the next game and make some comments about teamwork to try to keep him in line."

Lily rolled her eyes, but a quick glance at the joggers revealed that the boy in question did indeed appear to be looking over at her quite a bit. Still, instead of gracing his observation with a response, she said, "But you said we shouldn't come until you'd gotten the hang of coaching again."

He scoffed. "We're still rusty, but you'll be waiting forever if you wait until we're perfect."


	12. Their Love is a Diamond

Their love is a diamond. It was once almost lost in the land of the rough, almost condemned to a future of 'what-if's and 'if-only's and 'maybe-one-day's, but they found it and cleaned it and chiselled it down so that, now, they can treasure it like the jewel they both know it to be.

Despite its inauspicious beginnings, it now shines bright and free as it catches and reflects the rays of light that manage to make their way through the clouds threatening to overcome them. They set it into their lives like a centrepiece to be admired and appreciated at every opportunity, and she wears it without fail as a constant reminder of what they've built and worked towards. No matter how dark and terrible their circumstances become, and no matter how intensely the shadow of death sets into the valley of their lives, they cling to the hope of its promise like a lifeline, certain that it will see them through.

For their love, although once naught but a diamond in the rough, has been given the chance to be turned into a great work of art, and they are both determined to appreciate it for as long as either of them is around to maintain it.

* * *

A/N: I was going to post this later this week so that it could serve as incentive to finish some other things first, but - and sorry for the political stuff - Abbott's leadership has been challenged and the spill is about to start and I'm so excited that I'm not going to be good for anything but politics and Pokémon for the rest of the night. Thank you again to everyone who has followed, favourited or reviewed this so far. I'm pretty sure I've responded to everyone, but I'm not in the right state of mind to check at the moment.


	13. Prisoners

A/N: Firstly, just as a warning, this one's quite a bit darker than the others. I think it still fits the T rating, but it is much darker than the others.

Hogwarts Writing Club Competition – prompt: deter

The Restricted Collection Challenge – prompt: no using the word 'because'

If You Dare Challenge – prompt: Death's Doorstep

Also, thank you to my wonderful big brother for beta reading this for me. You managed to be a great help despite thoroughly creeping me out, so here's a metaphorical gold star for you. (I can get you a real one if you'd like me to.)

Word count: 1025

* * *

They all knew it was going to happen eventually. Despite the relentless training sessions and the numerous precautions they had carefully put in place, there was no way the Order would get through the war without having a few members killed or tortured. Mortality was the unspoken risk that everybody took when they joined the fight, after all, and that threat was heightened for those who chose to champion the side of the light. Given that their opponents were more inclined to use lethal force than they were, Order members were aware that they were likely to meet an early end. Nevertheless, the group had decided to ignore that unfortunate fact as much as possible. No amount of debate would deter them from fighting, so they saw no need to put themselves through the emotional turmoil of pointlessly ruminating on the issue.

Unfortunately, the ledge of self-deception was a narrow one; compartmentalisation could only take them so far. It let them forget the pits of deadly vipers that lay mere metres below their feet as they inched their way along it, but it did nothing to protect them from the threat of an errant step or gust of wind.

It was a misjudgement that toppled Lily and James over. They had been in the middle of what seemed like simple reconnaissance, observing potential Death Eaters at an innocuous pureblood function, when the newlyweds had been jumped, immobilised, and swiftly abducted.

When Lily came to, she was in a dim room. It seemed small, but the inadequate lighting made it hard to know for certain. All she truly knew was that it was dingy and, even though she felt the weight of a body that she hoped was James at her side, utterly isolating. Her hands were, to her surprise, unsecured, so she felt around for her wand just in case they had somehow forgotten about it.

Empty. The pocket where she always kept her wand was empty.

Instead, she leaned over to peer at the body beside her. A familiar shock of messy black hair covered the back of his head, so she pressed her fingertips into the fleshy skin of his neck to check for a pulse. Part of her wished, for his sake, that she wouldn't find one; it would certainly have been easier for him that way. Still, a larger, utterly selfish, part of her was incredibly grateful when she felt a steady beat pulsate against her fingers. James Potter had become her partner in every way and, while she would have loved to spare him the pain of what she was sure was awaiting them, there was no one else she would have preferred to be stuck there with.

"James?" she whispered, not wanting to alert their captors to the fact that she had regained consciousness. The chance of a murmur stirring him was slim, but her loneliness pushed her to try.

Unsurprisingly, it failed to rouse him, so she instead decided to take stock of their situation. Fumbling around in her myriad pockets, she took inventory of what their captors had taken and what they had overlooked or missed. Most of them had been cleared of their contents, but the hidden ones remained largely untouched.

When her hand brushed against the little vial that she'd stashed away in her most concealed of pockets, she sucked in a quick breath. Shivers ran across her spine as she realised exactly what that meant.

But at least she still had it.

A low groan cut through her thoughts, and she looked over to see James stirring. "Lily?"

"I'm here," she murmured, reaching out to help him manoeuvre himself into a sitting position.

"Do you know where 'here' is?"

"The cellar, I think." She hesitated. "It looks like this branch of the Burkes are Death Eaters too."

He swore under his breath. "I was so sure they were clean."

"We all were." Cutting off the inevitable guilt at its twisted roots, she continued, "James, we still would have come anyway. The opportunity was too good to pass up."

"Yeah." He made to stand up, but she held out a hand to keep him there.

"In a minute. Firstly," she said, keeping her voice low and devoid of any emotion, "I've still got my potion. Do you have yours?"

He reached into the recesses of his coat and, after a few minutes of feeling around, gave her a slow nod. She wasn't able to make out his expression through the gloom, but his face was as ashen as she had ever seen it. "Yeah. I do."

"Good. Just in case."

"Only as a last resort."

They fell into a knowing silence. Moody would have wanted them to take it immediately so as not to risk losing the opportunity, but Lily's whole body seemed to rail against the idea. She knew that time would eventually, inevitably, slip through their fingers like sand through an hourglass, and that neither of them would be able to predict exactly when their store of sand would run out, but she wanted to delay that act until the last possible moment.

"I love you," he eventually said.

"Right back at you. I just wish…" She trailed off, not having the words to encompass all of the wishes she had in that moment. Not even a sky full of stars would have been able to fulfil everything she coveted for them.

The weight of tears, unseen and unshed but still so very there, coloured his reply. "Me too." After a pause, he asked, "Ready to scope this place out?"

Lily's fingers brushed over the vial once more. When – _if_ – they ran out of options, she'd drink it; anything, even death, would be better than the torture they'd be forced to endure at Death Eater hands. Although she was sure that neither she nor James would break, they would respect the pact they'd made with Moody so many months prior.

But, until there was no other option, she would do everything in her power to render it unnecessary.

"Let's get out of here," she said with as much bravado as she could muster.


	14. Angel

A/N: The Restricted Collection - prompt: No references to a Hogwarts house

HP Assassin Competition - prompt: '"You don't want to be late for work, my angel."' from the fic The Nephilim (I'll add in who it's by once the competition has finished).

* * *

"That was the most disgusting display of public affection I have _ever_ seen," Lily ranted as she slung her coat over the back of the lounge. Her fiancé repositioned himself to make room for her, but she ignored the gesture, deciding instead to pace back and forth in front of him. "They were all over each other. And that wasn't even the worst part; I've been friends with Sirius long enough that seeing someone snogging in public doesn't bother me anymore. It was the constant _endearments_. Honestly, James, they were _nauseating_."

"Worse than Sirius snogging?" James asked, his amusement shining through like the sun peeking its head through a blanket of clouds.

Lily, however, was uncharacteristically immune to his rays. However much she loved his warmth and light, that wasn't what she wanted in that moment; in that moment, she wanted darkness and cold and the ability to vent her irritation without interruption. "Yes," she said adamantly. "Worse than that. He was calling her his _angel_. Like, _ugh_ , how bad can you _get_?"

"Jealous?" he teased.

Her face screwed up in disgust, but she let out a slow breath and perched herself on the lounge beside him. "No. But it's early and I'm stressed and it's pathetic how utterly unaware they were of everything that was going on around them. I bet they wouldn't even recognise Voldemort if he appeared in full Death Eater regalia right in front of them."

"Ah," he said, reaching out a hand to pull her against him. "That's what this is about."

"James," she whispered, "I just want this to be over."

"I do too. I even got annoyed at Sirius for making stag jokes the other day."

"But you love Animagus jokes."

"It just seemed petty. Got over it quickly, though. Sirius chided me for turning into a stick in the mud, and I told him he'd given me _paws_ , so we're good again."

"Yeah. Thanks for listening, anyway." She kissed him on the cheek. "I'd better be off. Jess Flooed in sick for work, so I have to dash. I just came home to change into my work clothes."

"You'd better hurry," James said. He paused for a brief moment for dramatic effect before adding, "You don't want to be late for work, my angel." He placed the faintest of stresses on the last two words, emphasising them while retaining deniability.

Lily rolled her eyes affectionately. "Don't get me started, _cookie_. I'm sure I'll be able to come up with a much worse nickname for you with the guys at work."

He just grinned. "Go ahead. It's on, _dove_."


	15. House-Hunting

A/N: The Restricted Collection - prompt: No 'time hopping'

The HP Assassin Competition - prompt: 'It looked almost like a black and white photograph.' from the fic After School Conversations. (I'll add the writer's name in after the competition has finished.)

* * *

"I'm going to check out the bathroom," Lily called out, leaning on the cushioned stair railing. "Want me to wait for you?"

"No thanks," James shouted back. "I'll meet you up there in a sec."

Turning away, she headed towards the still-to-be-explored room.

 _I can't believe we're actually house-hunting,_ she thought. _It sounds so grown up._

A flash of melancholy rushed through her. What it sounded like was something that her sister would do. _Petunia_ was the interior decorator in the family. _Petunia_ was the one who loved going along to open days for the sole purpose of getting new ideas.

 _Petunia_ was the one who was so eager to design anybody's home but couldn't even bear to discuss colour schemes with Lily.

 _No,_ Lily thought. _I'm not getting caught up in that again today._

Shaking off the pain, she continued through the upper floor of the little cottage Alice had recommended to the newlyweds. While the fact that it was in a purely wizarding village would make it harder for her to spend time with her family, she had already fallen in love with the place.

And, if she knew anything about her husband, James had, too.

Reaching the final room on that storey, Lily swung open the door - and stepped into a seeming photoshoot of a bathroom. It was bold and elegant and just added to her already strong interest in the house. It looked almost like a black and white photograph. It was just that _good_. Standing there, Lily felt almost like she had been dropped into one of Petunia's home decor magazines.

Behind her, she could hear the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. She turned to greet James with a warm smile.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I like it," she said. "I'm happy to look elsewhere if you want to, but..."

"I love it. Did you see the spare room? It's close enough to the main bedroom that we could make it the nursery, but it's also big enough that the baby would be able to keep using it when he gets older. The window - "

"Good," she cut him off, knowing that he could ramble all day about what he liked about the house if she let him and not wanting the real estate agent to realise just how much they loved it in case he tried to get them to pay a higher price. "Because I kind of underestimated just how much I like it."

"And 'Godric's Hollow' does have a ring to it," he added.


	16. Dangerous and Foolhardy

A/N: HP Assassin Competition - prompt: '"Did you really kill a giant snake with a _sword_?"' from the fic Something You Just Have to Endure. (Again, I'll come back and edit the writer in when the competition is over.)

* * *

Harry knew that he was in trouble the moment he disembarked from the Hogwarts Express and saw the pinched expressions on his parents' usually welcoming faces. Although they were both smiling at him in a show that might fool _some_ people into thinking that everything was alright, their mouths were stiff and forced.

"I think they've heard," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione.

"Blimey," Ron said, "you never catch a break, do you?"

"Apparently not. I'll owl you tonight if I can."

In turn, they hugged him tightly to them, as if they were trying to give him strength through osmosis. Then, steeling himself, he turned and walked towards his parents.

"Harry," his mother said, sweeping him into a hug. "It's so good to see you happy and _alive_."

Oh, they knew, alright.

His father sat with his head in his hands, looking wearier and older than Harry had ever seen him. "I don't know _what_ you two were thinking," he repeated.

While Harry hated seeing him look so defeated, he felt compelled to defend himself. It hadn't been a _wise_ thing to do, and he had known that his parents would disapprove, but it wasn't like he'd had much of an option. Time had been of the essence, and he had been the only one who could speak Parseltongue. "We had to. Ron's sister was down there, and Hermione was petrified. We had to help them!"

"That's very noble of you, Harry," his mother said in a tone that let him know that she didn't really care about how noble it had been, "but that didn't mean you had to go down there by yourselves. Why didn't you tell Professor McGonagall that you thought you knew where the Chamber was? You could have opened it for her so the professors could take care of it. Even trained professionals never take on a basilisk without the proper support - and a twelve-year-old boy and an incompetent professor do _not_ count as backup."

"We're proud of you for killing the thing, Harry. We _are_. But it was unnecessarily dangerous and foolhardy. We understood the fiasco with the stone last year - it was reckless, but you had already tried talking to a professor - but _now..._ Don't you dare start making a habit out of risking your life like this."

Harry almost pointed out that his father did lots of dangerous and foolhardy things when _he_ was at Hogwarts. _Almost_. But he had brought it up before, after he and his friends had recovered the Philosopher's Stone, and he suspected that his parents' response would be the same as they had been then; there was a difference between taking a risk that no one else could and taking a risk that other people were infinitely more qualified for.

"I understand," he muttered.

"We just want you to be safe," his mother said. "You know that Voldemort is targeting you. It's safe here, and at Hogwarts, but it isn't safe when you purposefully throw yourself into danger."

"I'll be careful next year," he promised.

"Alright. Do you want to go tell your Uncle Sirius that he can come in now?"

Harry slipped off the kitchen stool and hurried to the door. As he slipped through the threshold and made his way into the adjoining room, he heard his mother say, "We're going to have the same issue next year, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't say that," his father replied. "I'm sure it will be an entirely different issue next year; and _that's_ the problem."

"Uncle Sirius?" Harry asked as he reached his godfather, who was reclining on the floor as he cheerfully played with the Potters' cat. "We're done."

"Great." Giving the feline another scratch behind her ears, he swiftly jumped up and hurried over to him. "Your parents said you had an interesting year. Did you really kill a giant snake with a _sword_?"

"Er..."

A broad grin spread across the older man's face. "That's _awesome_." After a pause, he added almost bashfully, "Don't tell your parents I said that."


	17. Victory

A/N: HP Assassin Competition – prompt: "There was no need to be afraid of the ghosts lurking in the shadows anymore." from the fic Midnight Therapy Sessions. (Again, I'll come back and edit the writer in when the competition is over.)

* * *

The sun peeked around her curtains, surrounding it with an eerie glow as it forced its stubborn way into the room, and the sound of workmen banging away outside her window threatened to keep her awake. Even though she had, for the first time in over a year, slept through the night without interruption, it didn't feel like enough rest. Her subconscious mind had been freed from the nightmares about Harry being kidnapped that had so doggedly plagued it, but she felt like she could sleep for days after the night she had.

 _We won,_ she thought, and her lips tugged up into a tired smile. _Voldemort might come back, but that's a matter for another day. For now, for today, he's gone, and we're still here._

She started to roll over in bed, reaching out for James. They could spend some time relaxing in bed together, and then they could go to pick Harry up from Mary's, and then –

Pain rushed through her, and, wincing, she let her arm fall to the soft sheet as she curled in on herself. It was like her whole body was afire. _Everything_ ached; her neck was stiff and her shoulder throbbed and her feet burned and –

She tried to call out to James for help, but her throat felt rough and hoarse, and all that came out was a dull croak.

Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth against the upcoming pain, she reached out with her left arm and swiped it across the top of the bedside table. A loud _thunk_ echoed through the room as the thick book on warding spells she'd been studying fell to the ground. A whimper forced its way out of her mouth as she pulled her arm back towards her, but her pain in no way impeded the rush of validation she felt when she heard familiar footsteps – heavy, loud, fast – hurrying towards her.

She prised open her eyes just as her husband rushed into the room, concern splayed out across his face like paint on a canvas. "Lily? Are you alright?"

"It hurts," she croaked out.

His assessing gaze swept across the room, taking in the fallen book and her foetal position. "I'll be right back," he promised, before running out of the bedroom. Within seconds, he was there again, clutching a vial of swirling liquid in his hand.

 _Pain Potion,_ she recognised. With his help, she fought her way into a sitting position, and she opened her mouth to let him pour the brew down her throat. It started to work almost immediately, sending relief through her tender muscles and bones.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah. How were you when you woke up?"

"Not much better than you. I fell asleep with my wand still in its holster, though, so I was able to summon the potion myself." A broad grin spread across his face. "We did it, Lily. We beat him."

Reaching out, she took his hand in hers, tugging him down until he sat on the bed beside her. "We really did, didn't we?"

"Now let's go get Harry."

It finally hit her that Harry was really, truly safe. The prophecy no longer mattered; they would stay underground for a few more days while the rest of the Death Eaters were rounded up, but then they could take him outside again and raise him like a normal child. He would be able to grow up without having a bounty hanging over his head as punishment for the simple crime of existing. There would be new issues and new dangers to encounter and diffuse – one day, Voldemort would return, and Harry would have to face him – but that didn't matter in that moment. They had years to plan and prepare, and they would make good use of that time.

There was no need to be afraid of the ghosts lurking in the shadows anymore. New ghouls and demons would come to fill in that empty dark space, but they were nothing compared to the one the Order of the Phoenix had just vanquished.

"There is nothing I would rather do."


	18. Just Married

A/N: The Restricted Collection – prompt: No sentences longer than 10 words

To the guest reviewer a few chapters back: Thank you! That's so sweet. :) I thought I'd be super efficient by organising the A/N when I initially drafted this, but then I changed the chapter order and forgot to transfer this over.

* * *

Air rushed around them as they zoomed through the sky. Laughing, she ran a through her hair. The long red strands were whipping about behind her. Beside her, James dropped into a sudden freefall. He dropped a few feet before pulling up again. His proud grin reminded her of a puppy seeking praise.

"You're a prat," she accused him, affection lacing her voice.

Still beaming, he shot back, "But I'm your prat. _Legally_ , now."

"Whatever was I thinking?" she teased. She raised her left hand to her forehead dramatically. Winking at him, she pretended to check for a fever. "I must be coming down with something. We need to turn back, James! I need to go to St Mungo's – _immediately_!"

"Very funny," he replied dryly.

Giggling, Lily let her hand fall back to her broom. As it swished down, something about it caught James' attention. His gaze honed in on it and his smile gentled.

"That suits you," he commented, nodding towards it. "You shouldn't take it off."

"I don't plan to." She nodded towards his corresponding hand. "And _that_ suits _you_."

He actually _preened_ , reminding her of his stag counterpart. "It does, doesn't it?"

"I've never felt this happy before," she admitted.

"And I don't think I've stopped smiling since we left."

"You haven't," she informed him. "I've noticed. How long until we get there, do you think?"

"Only a few minutes."

She smiled broadly at him. " _Good_." Glancing down, she admired the hand he'd been staring at.

Her wedding band shone like a beacon in the sun. It seemed to exude happiness, joy, and sacred promises. Just _looking_ at it filled her with delight and anticipation. Like a ship headed for port, it drew her in. War might taint the coming years, but not that. It might kill them, but it wouldn't touch their love.

Excitement rushed through her. She couldn't imagine ever growing desensitised to the sight.

She was looking forward to testing that out.

 _Four and a half hours._ _I've been married for four and a half hours._

"Let's fly faster!"

James smirked at her. "Can't wait for the honeymoon?"

"No," she replied frankly. "I can't."

Almost in unison, they both leant forward on their brooms. Streamers and cans trailed behind them, clanging out a tune.

They flew for home.


	19. Explorers

A/N: We don't really celebrate Halloween here in Australia, but I thought I'd post this early to commemorate the day when the year's main plot always kicks into action.

* * *

They are explorers without a map, braving unchartered territory with nothing but curious minds and wide eyes and each other. Relationships are nothing new to either of them – they're old; so old, in fact, that the pair have no hope of ever truly understanding the full historical and socio-political context of them – but this is new and exciting and unknown and _theirs_. Somehow, despite being something that others have gone through before, it feels utterly unique and idiosyncratic to them. They traverse the flat plains of frustrated silence and the rolling hills of emotion. They swim through the river of tears and the lake of hopelessness. They peer from the outlook of happiness and through the telescope of contentment. And, at every turn, they name things and sketch them and promise to remember, forever, this wilderness of a region. Whether they return home, separately, to sign up for new explorations or they stay and inhabit it together for the rest of their lives, the map they are drawing and the memories they are creating will stick with them until the very end.


	20. Candle

To her, he's a candle, burning bright even in the dimmest of nights. The darkness threatens to close in around them, but his soft glow fends it off like a trained soldier, keeping the fear and nightmares well at bay. Huddled within his circle of radiating warmth, she feels safe. Monsters still lurk under her bed and in her closet, waiting for the opportunity to pounce and pull her, screaming, into their lairs, but they fade into inconsequentiality when he is there with her. She lights him and he illuminates her, and, together, they stand strong against the forces that threaten to encase them in shadow. Together, they wait out the eclipse, knowing that the dawning of the sun will send the monsters fleeing once more.


	21. Road Trip

A/N: NaNoWriMo's going well. Mentally and physically exhausting, but well. If this message comes out sounding rambling and/or unclear, that's why, lol.

I've decided to mark this complete after posting the 42nd chapter (apparently the _question_ that all-important number answers is, 'What's a good finishing point for this?'). I won't necessarily stop writing for it entirely, but I need to mark it as finished at some point so that I can then focus on other things. Because my brain is weird. Anyway, I finished drafting it early this month and will edit the drabbles as I get the time - which, considering NaNoWriMo, might not be for a while.

Hope you're all going well. Now, it's time for me to go find something soft to crash on. Pun certainly _not_ intended.

* * *

It was like they were starting out on a road trip with no set destination. Accepting their Hogwarts letters had them idling along down their suburban street, their car packed to the brink with clothes and snacks and luggage. But their journey was destined for trouble; with his arrogance and her righteousness, there was no real hope of anything else. Not long after they set off, they jolted to a sudden stop at the traffic lights that he unwittingly turned bright red with his cruel remarks towards her friend. The lights eventually returned to green, but then their car refused to start again, instead letting off loud noises as they feuded and stalled. Nothing moved for what felt like an eon. Then, finally, he made a move to fix things. He managed to restart the car and get them moving again.

But his joy at their progress didn't last for long. He had a few holiday spots in mind, but none of them appealed to her, and he had no idea how to drive there by himself. His poor sense of direction led them astray, leaving them stranded in a small shire in the middle of nowhere with neither a map nor any way of communicating with the outside world. No matter how hard he tried to set things right, he couldn't interest her in any of the places he wanted to go. All she wanted was to explore the township alone or return home. Feeling like his suggestions were falling on deaf ears, he resolved to get them there himself through sheer force of determination and perseverance.

Eventually, he realised that he would never be able to succeed without her consent. Even if it were possible, stumbling into a date with her would never last; he couldn't force her to want him, nor could he manipulate her into liking him. Even if he parked them at the front door of a fancy beachside resort and refused to budge until she went inside, it wouldn't mean that either of them would be enjoy their stay. Quite the opposite, in fact, as he was slowly realising.

For once in his life, he couldn't stronghold his way through a problem to get what he wanted. Faced with inevitable failure, he was forced to reconsider his plans and his priorities. He had to consider what she wanted and what he wanted and work out where that overlapped and where that didn't.

And he found a compromise. He apologised for everything he could sincerely say he regretted, and they talked through their hopes for the trip until they found a destination they could both agree upon. The sloping plains of friendship might not have been what he'd originally envisioned for the holiday, but it was something they would both enjoy, so they found a map and set about navigating their way there together.

The journey was still scattered with arguments and awkward pauses as they clashed heads and dealt with the lingering effects of the issues they'd created. And, even with the map, it was difficult for them to find the road that they'd left so far behind. But, eventually, they did.

They arrived at the small country town at midday and checked into accommodation. Its promise of rich history and picturesque landscapes intrigued them, and they agreed to explore it side by side. As they holidayed there together, exploring the sights and enjoying the views and letting themselves disconnect from the world they knew, they found themselves drawing closer to one another. They relied on one another for support and for guidance, and they finally became a team.

Then, one day, they decided that they'd stayed there long enough, and they set forward once again.

This time, they talked about their plans before setting out, openly and freely discussing their thoughts and interests and concerns. As the conversation unfolded, he found that she was reconsidering the idea of a resort. She didn't like the one he'd initially been so attached to, but they found another one that appealed to both of them.

So they hopped in their car again and they drove forward, the memory of the fascinating country town still fresh in their minds as they sped towards the white sands of their chosen beach.


	22. Red and Blue

A/N: NaNoWriMo is going great! I'm six days ahead of schedule – which I need to be, because there are several days coming up when I won't be able to write at all – and have made progress on both Heartbeat and 1989. I'm having trouble getting motivated today, though, so I'm hoping that posting this and then doing stuff around the house for a while will get me going again.

* * *

She's the colour blue. She glistens like the sea on a hot summer's day, drawing people in with her refreshing coolness. She can be sweet and transparent, peaceful and enthralling, fierce and unyielding, deep and mysterious. Many are fooled by her shining veneer, but there is a wealth of personality and adaptability hidden throughout her pigments. She endures like nothing else can, and she always will.

He's the colour red. He stands out in any possible surrounds, refusing to be anything other than exactly who and what he is. He can be bold and robust, fearless and unapologetic, passionate and consuming, succulent and tempting. No matter what he does, people always form strong opinions about him. They adore his intensity or shy away from his ability to relentlessly expose their insecurities without even meaning to. He has confidence like no one else, and he always will.

Together, they're the colour purple. Their relationship enchants people with the depth of its hue, casting spells over them until even their naysayers concede their compatibility. They can be imaginative and mystical, wise and supportive, enigmatic and intriguing, delicate and majestic. Although it is easy to create a romantic bond, their love is special and ambitious and, in the natural world, rare. They are classic like nothing else, and they always will be.


	23. Jeans

A/N: My heart is with everyone in or from France, Beirut and Baghdad. The events of the last few days shook the world, and we stand with all of you.

* * *

They fit one another like a favourite pair of jeans. The waistline was too snug at first; it was tight to the point of pain as it constricted them in ways they simply weren't used to. Their lives and expectations were so different, and neither of them were prepared to budge. Over time, however, the fabric of their very beings moulded itself to one another's frames. Habits developed and patterns were fallen into. Compromises were made and love was created.

Being around one another now feels so natural, so comfortable, so _right_. They can be themselves completely and totally, be themselves in ways that they can't quite be when they're with anyone else. It's comfortable; whether they're lounging around at home, or strolling through Hogsmeade, or attending official work functions, they fit together with absolute comfort and ease.

Because they're like one another's favourite pair of jeans. Except, no matter what anyone says, they will never wear out, and they will never, _ever_ go out of style.


	24. Her Twelfth Birthday

A/N: Town of Hogsmeade Game – prompt: Hogsmeade post office

I decided to relax the rule that students can't go to Hogsmeade until third year. Given how school policies develop over time, there was probably a time when anyone could go on the trips, and it suited this one-shot for that to be during the Marauder era.

* * *

 ** _5 February 1972_**

Lily hurried down the familiar streets of Hogsmeade, winding her way through the crowd of lively students who were enjoying the day away from school. Usually, she would have been among them, flittering from bookshop to clothes store to apothecary like a buzzing bee. To her, the wizarding town was what Christmas would look like if it were a place rather than a time of year. People were chatting merrily everywhere, and shops were almost overflowing with fascinating and unique magical items that never ceased to amaze her.

But she didn't have time for any of them in that moment. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she fought to get through the horde without anyone noticing her sadness.

Every year for as long as she could remember, she and Tuney had made one another cards for their birthdays. They weren't anywhere near as fancy as the birthday cards their parents bought from the shops, but they were always bright and colourful and sparkling with glitter. Her favourite part of January was seeing what Petunia had made for her that year and marvelling over how her sister had managed to put it together without her noticing. Christmases were for joint family cards, but birthdays were for special handmade cards.

Six days before, on her twelfth birthday, she had barely been able to contain her excitement as she went down to breakfast. No matter what kind of arguments the girls had gotten into over the years, they had _always_ kept up their tradition of homemade birthday cards, and she was hoping that making the card would help Petunia forgive her for reading her letter. But, when the mail arrived, cards came from her parents and from the Snapes and from her friends from primary school, but nothing came from her sister.

Petunia's name had been included on the joint family card, but she'd assumed that was only a precaution, her parents' way of preparing _in case_ her sister didn't finish her card rather than _because_ of it.

 _Maybe,_ she'd thought, _it just got lost in the mail. Maybe it's still at the post office._

She had held firm to that hope throughout the week. Then, first thing that morning, she had gone down to the post office to send her replies to her family and friends and to check if there was anything else there for her. She could have sent her reply directly to her parents via owl post, but she had decided to do it the Ministry-preferred way. The Abbotts, who ran the Hogsmeade post office, had cast a spell on all of the post offices in the United Kingdom so that they would be alerted whenever a letter addressed to a witch or wizard went through the Muggle post. They then collected them and used their own fleet of owls to send them out across the globe. They also did it the other way around, accepting letters delivered via owl or in person and slipping them back into the Muggle post system. Lily sometimes borrowed a school owl when the letter she wanted to send home was urgent, but she usually waited for Hogsmeade weekends instead so their neighbours – or her friends – wouldn't get suspicious about all of the owls flying around.

"Are there anymore letters addressed to Lily Evans?" she had asked. "I'm expecting something from my sister."

"I've already sent out all of the mail for today," Annie Abbott, the current proprietor, had replied. "If anything comes for you, I'll send it up to the school like usual."

Lily had tried to convince her to check again, and Annie had done so to appease her, but nothing more had been found. It had gotten to the point where Annie had gently insisted that Lily go find her friends to play with. Despondent and feeling more than a little bit embarrassed about how she had behaved, the redhead had left the shop and, losing herself in the large crowd, felt the tears begin to well up.

 _She didn't talk to me over Christmas, either,_ Lily thought as she escaped the crowd and started to run back towards the castle. She had been planning on converting her birthday money to wizarding currency and using it to buy another spell book so she could experiment with new charms and jinxes, but that no longer seemed important. She could do that anytime, really. In that moment, all that mattered was getting somewhere quiet before she broke down.

She was so fixated on getting back to the castle that she wasn't paying any attention to where she was going. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, propelling her through the cobbled streets – and into someone.

" _Oof_!" Lily stumbled backwards, flailing her arms about to keep herself from falling, as the body she'd crashed into fell to the ground. "S-Sorry…"

"Watch where you're going, Evans," a familiar voice snapped as a boy moved forward to help the person she'd run into up.

Shocked, she took in the faces of the pair. _Fantastic_. Sirius Black and James Potter. They were in the same house at school as her, but they were probably her least favourite people at Hogwarts. Massive bullies, both of them.

"Sorry," she repeated. "I – I need to go."

Potter shot her a sharp look. "What happened? Was it a Slytherin?"

"What?" she asked, peering at him with wide eyes. His voice was as gruff as ever, but she got the sense that he would actually retaliate if she confirmed that a Slytherin had done something to hurt her. Given how he seemed to view her _as_ a Slytherin most of the time, that was unexpected, to say the least.

"You look upset." He shrugged. "You might spend too much time around Slytherins to be healthy, but you're still a Gryffindor. If one of them hurt you, it's our job to get them back."

"It wasn't a Slytherin. It just – " She wanted to leave it there, but she knew that they were both persistent when they wanted to be. If she didn't tell them why she had been too distracted to realise that she was about to run into them, they would either keep pushing until she told them or would use it as an excuse to pick on more Slytherins. "My sister missed my birthday. Birthdays have been a really important thing for the two of us since we were little, but she just ignored it. I… She doesn't want to be my sister anymore." At that, the first tears spilled over, sliding down her face like raindrops.

They both looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Er…" Potter started.

"Families suck," Black cut in. "You're friends with Remus, aren't you? Why don't you hang out with us? We're meeting up with Remus and Peter at the Three Broomsticks, then we're going to finish working out the prank we're going to pull tonight."

She stared at him incredulously. She did indeed like Remus, but she hated the other three Marauders. And, as far as she was aware, the feeling was reciprocated. Still, it _was_ tempting. It felt wrong to go back to hanging out with Severus right then when it was their friendship that had caused the first few fractures in her relationship with Tuney, and all of her other friends would ask her tonnes of questions about how she was and why she was upset. As sweet as that was of them, she needed peace and distraction for the time being.

"Only if you don't cry," Potter added, and she quickly wiped her eyes.

"As long as it's not a mean one and it isn't on Sev," she replied slowly, hesitantly, "then I don't see why not."

Black's face scrunched up in disgust at her conditions, but Potter quickly protested, "Our pranks aren't mean!"

"Most of them are," she pointed out.

"No, they're – "

"They kind of are," Black cut in, looking utterly unfazed by that fact. "But, fine, we'll make sure it's a _nice_ general one. But don't expect puppies or rainbows or lame things like that."

"Then I'm in."

Potter's face erupted into a broad smile that Lily couldn't help but note was rather pretty. _As annoying as the Marauders can be, they can be sort of alright when they want to be,_ she thought.

"Good," he said. "It's hard to vote on things when there are four of us, so we could use a tiebreaker."

Lily found it hard to believe that it was really as democratic a process as he seemed to think it was, but perhaps he just didn't realise how much Remus and Pettigrew deferred to the two of them. The stray thought that maybe, just maybe, spending time with someone who wouldn't put up with their idiocy might help them crossed her mind. If Potter were really that clueless about how mean their pranks could get and how much his friends followed his lead, then maybe his cruel side was born from ignorance rather than malice. And, as her father always said, it was easier to fix cluelessness than spite.

Besides, it sounded much better than the alternative, and it might even prove to be fun. The pain of Petunia's slight still lingered in the back of her mind as she walked alongside them, listening to them babble about ideas and plans, but it was more bearable. And for that, if not for anything else, she was grateful.


	25. Travel Plans

"If you could do anything in the world," he murmurs, his languid voice cutting through her sleepy haze, "what would it be?"

It takes a moment for her mind to register the question. This far into exam period, and with the weather this hot, thinking about _anything_ seems too strenuous an effort to bother. The sun beats down on her skin, warming it through the thick sheen of sunscreen she covered herself with, as she forces herself to think. "How feasible does it have to be?"

"However much or little as you want."

Her voice is hesitant as she replies, "Part of me wants to say I'd make it so there's no blood prejudice or 'half-breed' discrimination anymore, but…"

"But?" The question is soft and gentle, and it coaxes the rest of her answer out of her.

"But I've had this dream, since I was a little girl, to visit the capital of every country in the world. Paris… Canberra… Hong Kong… Tel Aviv… It's not likely to happen, given our war and other wars and time limitations and money constraints, but I would love to just do that. Get a snippet of life in each country before returning to the places I really like."

"That sounds amazing. I would totally go with you if you wanted some company." He nudges her shoulder with his. "I'd be useful, too. I can speak conversational German, you know, and that might be helpful…"

Opening her eyes, she twists her head around until she can see him. He is still stretched out on the grass beside her, his eyes closed against the sun's harsh glare. A peaceful expression rests on his face. "I'd like that," she admits.

His hazel eyes blink open to stare right back at her. The sunlight illuminates the flecks of colour in his eyes, letting her see the little splashes of brown and green and orange in a way that she never has before. His gaze is as intense and concentrated as everything else about him, and she swiftly gets lost in it.

"What would _you_ do?" she asks when, after several long moments, she finally finds her voice again.

"I would make a cure for lycanthropy," he replies so quietly that he mouths, rather than says, the final word. "There's nothing wrong with… _you_ _know_ , but he still beats himself up over it. I'd love to be able to take that concern away from him entirely."

She exhales a soft but self-conscious laugh. "Yours is so much better than mine."

He reaches his hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're the most selfless and generous person I know. It's alright to look after yourself first sometimes."

She doesn't know what to say to that – to any of that. It's like a double-edged sword; you're a wonderful person and it's okay to use your one wish selfishly, so you shouldn't feel bad about the fact that, yeah, that's what you said you'd do. Instead of grappling with his words, she catches his hand and threads her fingers through his, tracing his palm with her thumb. "If you're serious about wanting to travel with me," she says, "maybe we could go to Barcelona for a few days after we graduate. I've been ticking European capitals off the list with my family for the past few years, and we're old enough to go there alone now…"

His face lights up like the sun – except, to her, he shines brighter than that far-off ball of gas ever could. "I'd love that."

 _And I love_ you, she thinks, not quite ready to say the words aloud but unable to deny it to herself any longer.


	26. Everlasting

A/N: I went to #1989TourSydney two nights ago, which was _amazing_. I'm still massively tired and have a headache (from sleep or the noise, I'm not sure), but it was so worth it. And I just hit 50k for NaNoWriMo! I haven't validated the document yet in case I can use the accomplishment to fuel more writing today, but I've done it!

* * *

They're like a book.

At first, they were a possibility, wisps of hypotheticals and hopes swirling around in the air, waiting for someone to pull them all together. It took years of writing and editing to get them to the point of being ready for one another, their awkward phrasings and stray plotlines chiselled away until all that was left was their essence and their journey. Only then were they something that was presentable, that could be exposed to the brutal eyes of the outside world.

Now, they're out there. They're published; they're official. People can make judgements about whether they're right for one another and whether it will last and whether they're going about things the proper way, but they can never take away the fact that they are a thing. And they can criticise the parts of them that they see, not realising or not caring that the pair endure countless sleepless nights and bitter fights and desperate compromises just to keep themselves bound together, but they can never invalidate the fact that they are both staunchly committed to one another. And they can threaten to burn them down out of the twisted knowledge that they will never have that for themselves, but they can never take away the fact that they are in love.

They're real, and they're together. Even if the libraries disappear and the records fail and the databases are destroyed, they will have existed.

And nobody will ever be able to take that away from them.


	27. An Exceptional Hugger

Lily's gaze scanned the castle grounds before fixating on a figure sitting on a fallen tree branch turned makeshift bench with his head bent down. _James Potter_. His messy hair and slumped shoulders were unmistakeable, even from such a distance. For the first time in the three years she'd known him, her lips tugged upwards into a relieved smile at the sight. He was there, and, more importantly, he was _alone_.

She strode across the broad expanse of grass, her footsteps speeding up as she neared him. Most of the school was still at lunch, leaving the space around them empty of other human life. This was a golden opportunity to talk to him without being overheard, and she didn't want to squander it. She felt bad about interrupting his solitude – given his usual excessively social nature, it was rare for him to actively choose to be by himself – but she didn't know when another chance might present itself. Surveying the area once more, she quickly double checked that they were indeed alone before stopping in front of him.

"Potter."

His head shot up like a jack-in-the-box, his surprised gaze meeting her steady one. Almost instinctively, his hand darted up to rake through his messy curls, and a disbelieving smile crossed his face. "Evans," he said slowly, as if he were struggling to process her presence. It apparently didn't take him long, however, for his smile swiftly solidified into the confident smirk that usually had her rolling her eyes and fleeing as quickly as possible. "Fancy seeing you here."

Most of her housemates would have been charmed by the display, but she just rolled her eyes in distaste. Had he not been the relentless bully she knew him to be, she might have been affected by his attentions towards her, but he was and so she wasn't. "Could you not?"

"What – "

Sarcastically, she continued, "I'm sure it's _such_ a rare coincidence for someone to need to talk to one of the nine people who also happen to be in their house and year about something."

His smirk faltered at that. "What are you here for, then?"

"I need to talk to you about Remus."

"Asking for romantic advice about my friend? That's low, Evans."

"Given how _your friend_ seems to run away from anything that could make him even remotely happy, would you really stand between him and happiness? If we did fancy one another, that is."

His expression turned pained, but he sighed and said, "No. He'd have my blessing."

"Good. Apparently you're not as self-centred as I thought. Now budge over." He eyed her in confusion, but he shuffled over on the branch so that she could fit beside him. "Before you go running to him about this conversation, though, you should know that he and I are friends. Completely… um… _platonic_. Anyway, do you know what he's doing tomorrow?"

A peculiar look crossed his face, and he was as closed off as she'd ever seen him. "He's going home for his dad's birthday, isn't he?"

"I don't know. Is he? _You_ tell _me_."

"Yeah… Yeah, he is. He's visiting his parents." As if for good measure, he added, "His family is awfully tight, so they all wanted to be together for it. Lovely, isn't it? They're a veritable paragon of family life."

"That's really interesting. Because, you know, he told _me_ that he's going home because his grandmother is sick."

Potter looked stricken, and she knew she'd made the right choice in coming to him instead of Black or Pettigrew. Black was a much smoother liar, and Pettigrew was more likely to play dumb, but Potter had neither that ability nor that excuse to fall back on. "Maybe I got my weekends confused," he said cautiously, eyeing her as if she were a viper ready to strike.

And perhaps she was. "Don't you mean months? I suppose it gets difficult to keep track of all of those…" Pausing, she mouthed the words 'full moons' at him. He opened his mouth to answer, panic evident in his wide eyes, but she dismissively waved it away, continuing, "Never mind. You've already confirmed things, really."

"You're wrong," he choked out, his voice thick with alarm. "I don't know where you've got this crazy idea from, but Remus just has a lot of family issues that he doesn't like to talk about and that pull him away from the school often. We just make up excuses so he doesn't have to tell anyone unless he wants to."

"Please," she scoffed. "I'm not stupid. He panics every time the word even mentioned, so there has to be _something_ there, and it just fits."

He leaned forward and gripped her arm tightly. His hold wasn't hard enough to bruise, but it still bordered on painful. "You can't tell anybody about this, Evans. It's not something you can just waltz into and out of. It's his _life_. We need to speak to Dumbledore. We need – "

His concern for his friend was surprisingly touching. Despite his myriad faults, no one could ever fault James Potter for being disloyal or uncaring towards his friends. Should someone ever find themselves within his circle of loved ones, she rather thought it would be impossible to do anything horrible enough to lose his trust. He was almost like a knight of old, promising his sword and life to his friends for life. Deciding to put him out of his misery, she pulled a box of chocolates out of her pocket and passed it over to him. Her voice softer than before, she asked, "Could you please give these to him for me? They're his favourites. It's not much, but…"

Potter took the box in what appeared to be a stunned stupor. "What?"

"I would give them to him myself, but I don't think he's ready to know _I_ know, and I don't want to risk being caught giving them to him. Sev's started asking awkward questions, so…"

"You're not making a threat."

"He's my friend. Of course I'm not going to blackmail him."

He seemed to visibly deflate in relief. "Of course you're not," he echoed back, before setting the box aside so he could lunge forward and pull her into a tight embrace.

She froze. If he had tried that at any other time, she would have pinched him until he released her and then yelled at him for having the audacity to do such a thing. In that moment, however, she couldn't blame him. She wasn't even sure if she were _Lily Evans_ to him in that moment; she rather suspected he just saw her as another person who knew Remus' secret and was willing to do anything to help and protect him. As a fellow knight, swearing fealty to his friend.

Besides, there was something welcoming about his hug. It felt warm and all-encompassing and safe, and she couldn't resist slipping her own arms around him to return the gesture. She felt as if she could happily remain there for the rest of the afternoon. They sat there in silence for a few minutes before she extracted herself from him and, after reminding him to give the chocolates to Remus, made her way back to the castle.

When she reached the large doors, she glanced back behind her. Potter was making his way up the path, chocolates securely in hand. The sight pulled a reluctant smile out of her, and she hurried inside the castle before he had the chance to catch up to her.

She still hated him and what he stood for. But she had to admit, even just to herself, that he was a loyal friend. And he was, most definitely, an exceptional hugger.

* * *

A/N: I may or may not have based the hug itself off one I had with a friend on our last day of school. I had a massive crush on him when we were thirteen, and there were some residual feelings throughout the years, so that hug (our first and only) is still really special to me. So… to Tim. I wish I'd been more comfortable with my feelings back then, even though my respect for your then-girlfriend would still have kept me from saying anything. Hopefully, some day, we'll catch up at a reunion and I'll casually mention that the reason I acted so weird around you in year seven was that I didn't want you to know how much I liked you.


	28. Daniel Evans

James Potter had been skirting rules and inviting trouble since his earliest memory. Things like laws and danger and fear tended to lose all meaning when you were an illegal Animagus who ran around with your werewolf best friend every full moon. The man in front of him, however, gave a whole new meaning to those words. He had ushered him outside with a thinly veiled excuse that was obviously just a way of getting him alone, and now James felt like he was at the most daunting job interview he'd ever heard of.

"If I'm going to stay at your house over the holidays," Lily had said when he invited her over for the Easter break, "then you're going to have to meet my parents first."

James had been momentarily taken aback, but he'd quickly acquiesced. It felt sudden, but he had to meet her parents eventually; and, furthermore, he had _wanted_ to.

He couldn't exactly say that anymore. It wasn't that Daniel Evans was physically imposing; he was short and thin and, while he had the muscles of a tradesman, he didn't have the advantage of magic. James knew that, should it come down to it, he could easily overcome the older man. No; what terrified the teenager was the sway the man held over his girlfriend.

The prospect of meeting a girl's parents was utterly new to him. Given the small size of wizarding Britain, James knew most pureblood and half-blood families by, at the absolute most, three degrees of separation, so he'd never had to worry about it before. If a girl was interested in dating him, it either meant her family was okay with it or she didn't care what they thought. This time, however, he was painfully aware that the Evanses were _not_ okay with him and that Lily _did_ care about it.

And that put all of the pressure on him to impress them. Lily could reason with them all she liked, but they still had to form their own impressions of him independently of that. And, while he didn't think Lily would leave him just because they disapproved of the relationship, he knew that they could make things extremely difficult for him moving forward from there.

"They're Aurors," he replied. After a moment's pause, he nervously added, "I'm not sure what the Muggle equivalent is, but it's a highly respected profession."

"They're the wizard cops, aren't they? Lily told me about them."

 _Lily_. "Yeah." James fiddled with the hem of the shirt Lily had approved, telling him it was suitably smart-casual to be a sign that he was serious about making a good impression without appearing pretentious or overly formal.

The older man sighed. "I think we both know that there is something we need to address before we go back inside."

Stilling his fingers as he fought the impulse to do _something_ with his hands, James nodded.

"What are your intentions towards my daughter?"

"I want to be with her. I'm not ready to say I love her," he admitted. "I thought I did, once, but I've realised that I had no idea what that really meant back then. So I'm holding off on saying it until I know for sure. But I do care deeply about her, and I'm serious about wanting to see where it goes."

Daniel's whole body seemed to relax at his words. His shoulders loosened and his hands unclenched, and James immediately felt that much more comfortable around him. Whatever the man thought about James' personality and compatibility with Lily, he at least believed that his feelings towards her were real. James had been worried that Daniel wouldn't be content without a flowery declaration of love, so the fact that he seemed to prefer honesty over pretty turns of phrase was relieving. "My wife and I trust our daughter's judgement. If she believes you've changed, then we do too. But know this; we have seen her hurt over you too many times already. The next time she comes home crying because you hurt her will be the last time you're ever welcome in this household. She values our opinion just as much as we value hers. I assure you that, while she might date someone we disapprove of, she would never decide to make long term plans with someone we are strongly opposed to."

"I understand."

"Good. Now that that's sorted, should we go back in? You should ask Lily to show you around the backyard."

James couldn't help the smirk that started to spread across his face. "But you already have. You just want a chance to talk to your wife about what I said, don't you?"

Daniel's gaze was assessing, and James instantly regretted his words. To his relief, however, the man merely said, "I think I might just grow to like you. Yes. Natalie did the talk with Lily's last boyfriend, so I got to do it with you, but she'll be anxious to find out what you said." A hint of challenge inched into his voice at the reference of Lily's ex, but James didn't rise to the bait. After a moment, Daniel broke into a small smile and patted him on the back. "I think we're going to be alright."

* * *

A/N: Anyone catch the AVPSeries reference?


	29. Dorea Potter

A/N: This carries on from the previous drabble, where Daniel talked to James about his relationship with Lily. I didn't like the idea of James being the only one to have a tough time of it. Also, while I'm aware of the Pottermore release about James' parents, I see any information released outside of the books as being canon-optional, and the idea of James being Dorea and Charlus' son fit better with how I envisioned this interaction going.

* * *

Lily leaned over to smell one of the roses that hung from the gable of the spare bedroom. Its pollens filled her nose with their heady perfume, and she allowed herself to get lost in it. It was, after all, infinitely better than the conversation she was in the middle of having with Dorea Potter.

Less than an hour before, she had arrived at the sprawling Potter Manor with the band of grinning Marauders, all of whom had earnestly insisted that both of James' parents would instantly love her. Despite their reassurances, however, her gut had twisted like a wet towel at the sight of the magnificent property. Old-fashioned and expansive, it had instantly spoken of money and prestige and tradition so extensive that they would take years to learn. And, throughout all of that, she had been constantly aware of the fact that it housed James Potter's parents. The Marauders had told her a lot about them during the weeks leading up to the Easter holidays, so much so that she had felt like she'd known everything about both of them – kind, brave and more than a little doting – already. It had been with the memory of Remus' promise that they only wanted to see James happy and that they would therefore love Lily that the redhead had steeled herself for the initial meeting.

She hadn't known everything about them. And Dorea Potter certainly didn't seem to love Lily.

Their cat Tullia seemed to, though, so maybe that was a win?

But Tullia wasn't touring the gardens with the pair of them, and neither were the boys. Instead, she was alone with Dorea Potter. And, with steely grey eyes and wild black hair that tumbled down her back in a way that reminded Lily so very much of her boyfriend, she was easily the most intimidating witch Lily had ever met.

"It's no secret that my son has had his heart set on you for years," the woman was saying, "or that you publicly rebuked all of his advances. Why, given the history between the two of you, did you suddenly start liking him back this year? Some might say it seems rather peculiar."

Lily closed her eyes, determined to pretend that it was Professor Slughorn who stood beside her. The Potions professor had essentially taken her under his wing, training her to navigate the complicated world of pureblood politics. If she saw this as just another exercise in talking to uncooperative purebloods, it might make the whole thing less daunting.

And it would hopefully help her earn the respect of this particular uncooperative pureblood. When she had mentally prepared herself as much as she was able, she opened her eyes again and turned around to face the woman. "It wasn't sudden. There were always things that I admired about him. He's brilliant and passionate and charismatic, and I respected that. He just… did some things that I wasn't able to accept. I know Professor Slughorn told you about the OWL incident; that was the worst thing, but there were others as well. But then James just seemed to mature over the course of last year. And then, when we realised we were the Head students this year and would have to work together, we sat down to talk everything through and find a way to get along. We agreed to try being friends, and then, over time, I started to reciprocate other feelings as well."

"Horace has spoken rather extensively about you," the woman said vaguely. "It's obvious that you're his favourite student."

"I can't attest to that, but he's certainly my favourite professor."

"That's what I thought. After all, he is teaching you the ways of the wizarding world, is he not? He speaks of you as if you were his daughter, and he certainly wants you to excel as if you were. Of course," the witch said, pausing meaningfully, "as archaic as it may be, it would be much easier to do that if you were to marry an influential pureblood – like my son."

Lily's head jerked back as if she had been slapped in the face. She might as well have been. The witch hadn't raised a hand or wand to her, but she had insulted her honour, which was – to her – much worse than a simple physical strike. "You think I'm a gold-digger?"

"Not _gold_ , precisely. But I am aware that you are a bright girl who would hate to be disadvantaged for something so trivial as her blood status but who has no hope of fighting the system unless she somehow gets within it."

The redhead bristled, her eyes flashing with barely contained fury. Had any of the Marauders been there, they would have recognised just how volatile her mood was in that moment. Dorea, however, could only watch and form her own uninformed opinions. "I know that arranged marriages still occur in the wizarding world today," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "but I've been raised to believe that you marry for love and for love alone. You're right that Professor Slughorn is more of a mentor to me than a professor. And, with his influence, I don't have to worry about finding somewhere that's willing to employ a Muggle-born. When he recommends someone, people listen. They might not respect me, but they'll respect the fact that he does. So I hardly need James for his influence or family name."

Dorea's expression was blank as she surveyed the teenager. Then, after a few moments, she simply said, "Good," before starting to walk again.

 _Good?_ Lily wondered. Had it c just been a test?

"One last question before we go back inside, then. What's your stance on the war?"

"I'm a Muggle-born," Lily said, shrugging almost flippantly, as she tried to wrap her head around the older witch's behaviour. "I obviously don't like it."

"But how involved are you planning on being? Some Muggle-borns want to hide. Some want to fight. Some want to side with Voldemort in exchange for their family's safety. Where do you fit?"

"I'm a fighter."

Dorea smirked. "I can tell. I am too."

"Actually," Lily said, relaxing a little after that sign of comradeship, "I think that's why James and I clashed for so long – and why we work so well now. I wasn't going to just back down and let him bully…" Pausing, Lily grimaced apologetically, but Dorea rolled her eyes and waved her on. "I wasn't going to let him bully people, but I wasn't going to give in and date him to make him stop, either. And he was the same. His pride wouldn't let him stop just because I asked him to, but he still refused to let go of his crush on me."

"He's as stubborn and subtle as a bull, that one. He gets it from his father," Dorea said, and, with those words, the last of the tension dissipated. "I'm sorry for coming on so strong, dear. Charlus thought we should trust Horace's judgement, but I reminded him that no one's opinion is infallible. I'm a Slytherin through and through and I just had to see for myself."

"I understand," Lily said. Still, she couldn't resist adding cheekily, "It must be hard to keep all of those gold-diggers away."

Dorea snorted. "You have _no_ idea. I'm just glad James has his friends to help him work out who's genuine and who isn't. My friend Lucy's daughter – Velma Greengrass – is having a much harder time of it. _Her_ friend doesn't see anything wrong with political marriages, so Velma is finding it hard to work out which boys she can trust on her own. That doesn't make it any easier when some pureblood ever-so-politely suggests we set up a meeting between our children, of course."

Lily listened on in amazement. Slughorn and her friends had all _mentioned_ the issue to her, of course, but it sounded so much different coming out of an adult's mouth in a non-academic context.

"But at least I have you around to help me now," Dorea said, appearing to brighten up considerably at the idea.

"You're happy for me to stick around?"

"I like you. You can hold your own, which is important in a place like this. Besides, James cares about you, and Sirius has made it abundantly clear that the two of you are good friends, which he doesn't make often." Leaning in towards Lily, she admitted with an air of embarrassment, "I've never been able to deny _James_ anything, let alone _Sirius_. Honestly, I suspected from the start that you would pass my test. I just wanted to see if you could handle the pressure."

"Sirius does have good puppy dog eyes," Lily allowed.

Dorea's gaze sharpened. "You know?"

" _You_ know?"

The older witch laughed. "It's so cute that they think Charlus and I don't know what they get up to at school. Of course I know. They're wonderful sneaks, but I'm older and much better at it than them." With a s wink, she added, "But don't tell any of them that. It's never a good idea to reveal one's leverage if you don't have to. That's the first rule of surviving in pureblood society. The second is to be good at reading between the lines of what other people say, which you already seem to have under control."

Reading between the lines of her speech and realising what she meant, Lily beamed at her.


	30. One Day

The cool water lapped against her feet as they ambled along the beach, enjoying the solitude of the otherwise empty shoreline. Coarse particles of sand stuck to the backs of their legs, but neither of them cared. It had been good just to get away from the war and spend a day by themselves.

But that getaway was winding down, and concerns and strategies were slowly working their way back into their minds like a persistent mischief of mice.

"James," she finally whispered, knowing that the Muffling Charms would prevent eavesdroppers in the case that they had somehow overlooked someone but still feeling impelled to be quiet, "do you think we'll ever win?"

His hand tightened around hers as he looked down at her in obvious disbelief. "Where's this coming from? Of course we will. That man's a maniac, but he's not invincible. We'll keep fighting until we get him."

A wave barrelled into their legs, almost sending both of them careening down to the ground. Surprised laughs forced their way out of them as they gripped one another to steady themselves, hunkering down as if in a bunker until it was safe to move forward again.

"We're bad at this," Lily observed.

James reached his foot out to idly flick aside a wad of seaweed that was floating past them. "Maybe it means we should come here more often."

"It would be nice to get away from it all again." After a few moments of quiet reflection, Lily added, "But I didn't mean against him; I meant against the ideology. It was here long before him, and it will outlast him, too. And it's not like anyone would be open to us seeking educational reform to address it, so…"

He sighed, the sound thick with exhaustion and resignation, and she could have discerned his answer from that alone. "We'll defeat him, and then we'll see about the rest of it."

"So, no, you don't think so."

"Not yet," he admitted. "But one day… One day, I think we will."

She leaned against him, seeking comfort from his familiar form. "Then we'll just have to do what we can to get ready for that," she said, but what she was thinking was, _Everything is always 'one day'._

* * *

A/N: Things you learn while writing: the collective name for a group of mice is a mischief.


	31. Preparations

A/N: Still exhausted, but dinner and a swim have done wonders, so at least it's now out of sleepiness rather than pain.

* * *

He potters around the kitchen, humming under his breath as he cooks dinner, while she knits another blanket for Harry's cot. Knitting can feel menial at times, but she enjoys losing herself in the monotony of the task. The constant repetition gives her the space to think while also giving her an excuse _not_ to think. And, at a time like this, any hobby that allows you to ignore the horrors of the world around you is one worth maintaining.

Today, however, seems to be one of those times when thoughts refuse to go away, for she is just starting to immerse herself in the process when her husband tells her, "Lily, we need to talk about this."

She sighs. While she has managed to avoid the topic over the last couple of days, there's no way she can do so forever. "I know," she admits. "I just don't like talking about what will happen if we die."

"Do you think I do? I _hate_ the thought of us not being around for him. But you and I both know that we need to be prepared."

"Yeah. I know." Unable to concentrate on getting the lines straight, she sets the partially knitted blanket aside and leans forward, propping her elbows up on her knees as she cradles her chin in her palms. "Let's do it, then. What are you thinking?"

"Padfoot," he replies instantly. "Harry already adores him, and he loves Harry like a son. It'd be the easiest transition for Harry, and it would be good for Sirius. If we..."

He falters, so she continues, "If we're not here, he's going to need something to keep him from hurling himself straight into the enemy lines in a misguided quest for vengeance. Taking Harry somewhere safe would do that."

"Yeah."

"I think we should ask Alice and Frank to do it if he can't. They already have Neville, and we know they'd raise Harry similarly to how we would."

"But Remus - "

"I would be happy for him to raise Harry, but I don't think he'd want to. You know how he gets about his lycanthropy, James. He'd be in a constant state of terror that someone would find out and that that would then disadvantage Harry, and that wouldn't be healthy for either of them. We could tell the goblins that he's an option, but I think we should try to avoid it if possible. For his sake."

"Who else, then? Peter likes Harry, but he isn't cut out for fatherhood. And my parents can't," he adds, his jaw tightening at the thought of how steadily their health has been declining over the past few months.

Neither of them point out that hers can't either anymore.

"Petunia could."

" _No_. She and that husband of hers are never going anywhere near my son."

"I hate him even more than you do, James, but there aren't many other people we can trust. Literally anyone else could be a spy for Voldemort. It's not ideal, but they're safe and they're removed from the war. I know I could talk Petunia into letting Dumbledore send them all overseas somewhere if she knew it was for her own safety as well."

"Only as a last resort," he compromises. "Sirius, Alice and Frank, Remus, my parents, Peter, Petunia."

"Agreed. I'll owl Gringotts to ask a delegate to meet us at Hogwarts. Petunia and Vernon have taken Dudley to Wales for the rest of the month, but I'll catch up with her after that to make sure she would be alright with it."

"Speaking of Dumbledore, he suggested that we put in a clause that allows him to supersede the letter of the will should he deem it necessary." His expression turns disgusted as he quotes, "'Just in case the spy turns out to be someone you trust.'" Shaking his head, he continues, "No one on that list would betray us. But it might be a good idea to give him that power anyway, just in case circumstances change with the war and we can't risk meeting up with another goblin."

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with that." She frowns. "But I suppose it _is_ Dumbledore, so..."

 _17 October 1981_


	32. Marry Me

A/N: So tired from helping to prepare everything. Time to crash for the night, I think. Anyway, merry Christmas for tomorrow! (Well, for less than ten minutes away, but there's no way I'm staying up until then tonight.)

* * *

The first time he mentions it is in jest. "I could marry you," he says, laughing, after he sees her team up with Sirius to hex a girl for insulting werewolves in front of Remus. The offence more than warranted the punishment, in his opinion. Given the way she calmly accepts her resulting detention, he rather thinks that she does too. It's the first time he realises that she knows about his friend's lycanthropy, and it's the first time that he sees her as someone other than the smart girl with the bad taste in friends. She snarks at him and storms off, but the words are still out there.

The second time is part of his campaign to win her over. "Come on, Evans," he says, his eyes challenging her. "Tell me you don't want to marry me and have ten children with messy black hair and green eyes." The sound of shocked spluttering – and then, afterwards, of yelling – makes it abundantly clear that she wants neither of those things. She appears to be more indignant about the excessive number of children, though, so he decides to take that as a win. He's not that attached to the idea of marriage or of children, anyway – it was just an attempt to get her to start thinking about what a future might be like with him – so the number is hardly set in stone. And everything else is negotiable.

The third time is much more serious. "We should elope," he says, his tone pleading even though his words themselves

aren't. "Run away to America or somewhere the day we graduate. Somewhere you'll be safe." She's his girlfriend now, and she holds his hand to soothe him as she tells him that it's tempting but they both know they can't. The look on her face is genuinely regretful, though, and he gets the sense that she might have said yes had the question been just a little bit different. It's not the right time for him to ask _that_ question, but he stores that knowledge away. One day, he knows, it will come in handy.

The fourth time is part of the planning process. "What do you think about the idea of getting married?" he asks, twisting long strands of wavy red hair around his finger. "In terms of us. Would you want to be a certain age first?" Her response is careful and measured, and they both open up about their hopes and plans and expectations. It's the most revealing conversation he has ever had, and she admits that it's the same for her. By the time their free period ends and they leave the abandoned classroom to make their way down to lunch, he is more certain about his future with her than ever.

The fifth time is _the_ time. "Will you marry me?" seems like such a big question, but it slips out of his mouth as easily as anything. Because, after everything that has already passed between them, it feels completely natural. She beams and tears spring to her eyes as she nods, so he slips the ring on her finger as they fall into one another's arms. He feels at home in her embrace, like all of the pieces have fit together for one brilliant moment. As they pull away, threading their fingers together like dandelions, he knows implicitly that he never wants to be apart from her. And that, to his never-ending joy, that desire is more than reciprocated.


	33. Proposal Talk

James let the Snitch fly a few feet away before reaching out, lightning fast, to grab it again. The glittering golden globe struggled against his grip at first before, ultimately, conceding defeat. His friends were busy discussing and dissecting the latest newspaper headline, but his thoughts were pointed in an altogether different direction.

"I'm thinking of asking Lily to marry me," he said, his quiet words cutting through the lull in conversation as if he had shouted. "Maybe in July, just after we graduate. Or I might wait for September; she does love autumn. We could fly to a mountaintop somewhere, and…" He trailed off. While he was certain about asking her, he didn't yet know exactly how he wanted to go about it. Public declarations of interest hadn't worked when he had initially been trying to get her to go out with him, but what if that didn't apply to this? They liked to keep their relationship stripped back and simple, but what if she expected fanfare for something as momentous as this?

Remus smirked. "I was wondering when you'd bring it up. Pay up, Will." He held out his hand, wriggling his fingers expectantly, and the other Gryffindor boy begrudgingly passed over a handful of sickles as he muttered under his breath that it wasn't _his_ fault that he'd expected James to be reasonable enough to wait until after they all graduated. "Since when is James ever _reasonable_?" he retorted.

"At least you know she's going to say yes," Peter said, thankfully diverting James' attention from the quarrelling boys. "She's crazy about you."

"She is, isn't she?" James replied, a goofy smile spreading across his face at the reminder that Lily Evans was as mad for him as he was for her. "Sirius?" he prompted, turning to his uncharacteristically quiet best friend.

"You've talked to her about this, yeah?"

James hesitated, confused at the direction Sirius seemed to be going in. "About what?"

"Marriage. If she wants it. _When_ she would want it. That sort of thing. We were talking about it a few weeks ago – "

"You two discussed marriage?" he asked, frowning at the thought. He loved the fact that they had become close – albeit slow – friends, but the idea of it still stumped him. Sirius tended to avoid the topics of family and marriage like a ninja evading detection, and Lily – to his knowledge, anyway – was more likely to talk to Remus or Sarah about something like that. It was wonderful if Lily and Sirius _were_ close enough to discuss that, but…

Sirius' infectious laugh filled the room. "You make it sound like we've been sneaking around behind your back, mate. We – "

"I didn't mean – "

"I know," he said offhandedly. "But we were talking about my 'family', and the topic came up."

"What did she say?"

"That she would like to get married one day but doesn't like the idea of a surprise proposal. That it's stupid that the asker can spend weeks thinking about it while the responder only has a few seconds to make up their mind before things start getting awkward. That she hates that the responder can decide against it without consequence, whereas turning down a proposal is kind of like signing a death warrant on a relationship. And that it's the kind of thing a couple should decide upon together, not separately."

"Oh."

"I think she knows you'd want a fancy proposal and is alright with that, but bring it up with her first, at least."

"I will," he promised. "Tonight. Well, tomorrow. As soon as I have the chance."

"I'd better get to be the best man after this," Sirius commented as he returned to perusing the paper, his previous conversation about the news well and truly forgotten. "Sorry, Moony."

"It's alright. I suppose I'll let you have that."

" _Let_ me?"

"Oh, come on," Peter said. "We all know he could talk the two of you into letting him be it if he really wanted to." His gaze flicked over to Will meaningfully before returning to rest on James. He widened his eyes and said mournfully, "'I understand. It's better that way. I don't mind.'" Angling himself so that only the three other Marauders could see his face, he mouthed, " _Furry little problem,"_ just in case they hadn't already worked out what he meant.

Remus flashed his best puppy dog eyes at the pair, letting his bottom lip tremble as if he were trying to control great emotion. Noticing the way worry sprang into their gazes, proving Peter right without even meaning to, he relaxed his expression with a laugh and dropped back on his bed. "It's fine, guys. Really. It should be Sirius. After all, if you'd gone ahead with the surprise proposal, she might have said no on principle."

"What he's saying," Sirius said, smoothly interceding as he noticed Will watching Peter and Remus almost suspiciously, "is that I will have orchestrated the betrothal singlehandedly."

All five of them erupted into laughter at that.

"Oi," James protested when he had calmed down again. "I'd like to think my brilliance and charm will have something to do with it, too, thank you very much. Well, hypothetically. _If_ she says yes." He sighed. "I still need to talk to her first."

* * *

A/N: I hate the idea of public – and surprise – proposals with a passion. The asker can spend all the time they want deliberating over it, but then the responder is expected to be able to answer instantaneously and with full knowledge that saying they're not ready might ruin their relationship. It's okay if they've talked about it enough beforehand to already know that they both want to, but when it comes out of nowhere…

Anyway, I have a cold, of all things to get this time of year. I hope your Boxing Day is going better than mine – although it is lovely to just lounge around with my parents, even when overheated and with a runny nose. Now back to re-watching _Emma_!


	34. What Love Smells Like

"Why is this even part of the NEWT syllabus?" Lily muttered to Yvette as she watched over her cauldron of simmering Amortentia. It was important to be able to identify love potions, of course, in case someone tried to spike your drink with it, but it was seriously messed up that they were being taught – and _tested on_ – how to brew one correctly. Weren't they one of those things that the teaching staff should try to condemn, rather than facilitate, the use of?

"Because the bureaucrats in charge of the decision are a bunch of pigheaded pureblood traditionalists," the Ravenclaw replied automatically, picking at her nail polish as she waited for her own potion to finish brewing. Having grown up in a pureblood household herself, albeit a much more progressive one, the Ministry's dogmatism had long since seized to surprise her. "They think people should know how to make it in case they end up in an unhappy marriage and want an easy fix to a complicated problem. Of course, they choose to ignore the fact that it could just as easily be used to forcesomeone _into_ an unhappy marriage."

" _Idiots_."

"Yeah. But who's the greater fool – those who are fools or those who willingly follow fools?"

"In this case, the leading fools. Seeing as how they set the curriculum, those of us who follow along with it are just doing what it takes to get good marks."

The liquid had finally acquired its idiosyncratic mother-of-pearl sheen, so, with a well-practiced hand, Lily doused the fire and removed the cauldron to give the infusion a chance to cool. The move placed the potion right in front of her, however, and she swayed forward as she got caught up in the temptation of the spiralling steam.

"Go on," Yvette said, barely looking up from her nails. "Do it. I dare you."

Laughing, Lily stuck her tongue out at her. "If you insist." Leaning forward ever-so-slightly, she used her hand to carefully waft the fumes towards her nose. Almost immediately, the scent of old books, crisp morning air, broom polish and pine trees overwhelmed her senses. It was the most amazing fragrance she'd ever smelled. All she wanted to do was to immerse herself in the heady scent, but she knew she might then lose herself it. Forcing herself to instead follow the proper procedure for smelling potions' fumes, she took another deep whiff of the intoxicating scent.

And her eyes shot open. She had expected the smell of the books; it had been her favourite smell since she was little, so it would have been more surprising had it _not_ been there. The undercurrents of fresh air, while not necessarily _expected_ , hadn't been a surprise either. But broom polish? She liked flying, and she knew how to maintain a broom, but it wasn't like she loved it. And what about the pine trees? She had always preferred lakes to forests.

Of course, she knew exactly who smelled like both of those things; her boyfriend. Almost of its own accord, her gaze swept over in his direction, taking in the sight of him huddled over his own cauldron. She certainly cared about him, but was it love? Had she somehow fallen for him without even realising it?

She was so deep in thought that Yvette had to pose the question, "So what's the verdict? What does love smell like to you?" twice before it registered as being more than just a jumble of nonsensical sounds.

"James," Lily whispered. "It smells like James."


	35. Stag Ride

"So you use the genitive case when the noun possesses or is of something," she reads aloud as she adds yet another dot point to her steadily growing page of notes. The hardest thing, she is finding, about learning Latin is learning how different nouns decline and verbs conjugate. She didn't even know what those words _meant_ until she decided to fulfil her childhood dream of bilingualism so she could feel useful by creating new spells for the Order while in confinement. Trying to wrap her head around it all over the last few weeks has certainly provided her with a challenge. "But what's a dative?"

Sighing, she lets her head rest against the desk, wishing she had someone else to study with. James has been quizzing her, but his early forays into foreign languages turned him off the practice entirely, and he's the only one – other than Harry – that she has regular contact with. Closing her eyes, she tries to sort out all of the different cases in her mind, running through them and their uses and what she remembers of how they affect the endings of nouns from each declension.

"Mummy!"

Grateful for the distraction, she forces herself to stand. "Harry?"

"Mummy, come see!"

His tone is excited, not afraid, so she isn't worried as she makes her way into the living room.

She stops short at the sight that greets her.

A magnificent stag stands in the centre of the room. Natural light shines through the window, highlighting the orange tinge to the brown of his coat. Antlers stretch out proudly, giving him a mystical aura. No matter how many times she sees James in this form, he never ceases to remind her of some kind of overgrown woodland fairy.

And his boon rests atop his back, his little hands clenched in his fur to keep him from falling off. "Mummy," the boy says again, "look!"

"I'm looking," she says. "Did Daddy become Prongs again? Do you think he should start walking around?"

He nods in vigorous excitement.

"Hold on tight," she warns him, and her gaze meets the stag's. His eyes are browner and narrower in this form, not to mention further apart, but his love of family and adventure always shines out from his intelligent gaze.

Her heart fills with contentment at the sight. Seeing Prongs amuse Harry with piggyback rides and general silliness invariably fills her with pride and peace. There may be a war going on, and there may be cases to learn and nouns to decline and spells to create, but this here makes it all worth here. This here is why she fights.

This here is what keeps her sane.

* * *

A/N: I blame Pokémon X for the stags = fairies thing. Just looking at photos of stags to try to get the description right made me think of fairies, and it actually took a while for me to work out that that's because I was subconsciously thinking about Xerneas.

Also, I finally watched _The Force Awakens_ today, and it was _so good_. I was really young when the prequels came out, so it was amazing to watch a _Star Wars_ movie for the first time as a sort-of-adult and be able to predict where things were going. I've been talking Mum's (and Dad's, for a while) ear off with theories all evening. Unfortunately, my brother hasn't watched it yet, and my best friend doesn't like sci fi, so Mum and Dad are kind of stuck with me for the time being. But at least I can finally step out into the internet again and be all, "I'm no longer afraid of you, TFA spoilers! And I never again will be!"


	36. Bliss

The silvery animals dart across the room, weaving around and leaping over furniture with a grace that enchants the young boy sitting cross-legged on the floor. Awe illuminates his face as the doe streaks past him, and the stag stops to affectionately nuzzle at the air beside his neck. Patronuses aren't solid, but Lily can't imagine that tangibility could make Harry any more delighted than he is right now. There is something uniquely special about watching the ethereal creatures traverse the room, even for her.

The stag and doe slowly fade, but Lily and James raise their wands before the baby has the chance to start crying at the loss. She doesn't even have to bring a memory to mind; the scene in front of her is so perfect, so innocent and pure and _happy_ , that it's enough on its own.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," they intone, and the silver pair leaps forth again. The sadness that has just started to cross Harry's face gives way to joy at the sight of the otherworldly pair darting around him once more. And, leaning into her husband's embrace, Lily feels bliss.


	37. Managing the Rumours

As soon as their classmates see the ring on her finger and realise what it means, rumours start springing up like rabid weeds. In a school as insular as Hogwarts, water and sunlight and dirt aren't hard to come by, so the hateful whispers have no shortage of nutrients to breed from.

She _must_ be pregnant, they say with condescending smirks. Why else would they be getting married so young?

She didn't seem like the type for a shotgun wedding, others say with masks of polite concern hiding their smug satisfaction.

I guess what they say about Muggles being extra fertile must be true, still others say as they try to use it to justify their prejudices.

It doesn't take long for it to circle back around to her. Within a day, conversation has been clogged up by the insidious rumours, all other topics of interest suffocated by their sheer force of persistence. It bugs her that her reputation is being smeared, but she forces herself to ignore it. Unless or until someone actually confronts her about it, she sees no point in addressing the matter. The two of them know better, and their friends know better, and the professors who approached her in concern to discuss arranging alternate schooling know better, and everyone else can get stuffed.

It's with this mindset that she approaches James without compunction when she notices him leaving the Quidditch pitch with Sirius and Remus. Only one other student is around, but Lily still feels like she's trailing a cape of fire as she marches across the grounds to see him. It would be tempting to conjure one up just to make her point, if only she thought there were a chance the others would get the joke.

And then she realises who the other student is, and her focus deflates in an instant as anger flares up within her. _Rita Skeeter._ She's a gossip and a liar who has caused nothing but trouble throughout her time at school. She started out by meddling with Lily's friendship with Severus, trying to make everyone believe they were star-crossed lovers in an attempt to humiliate them both, before moving on to attempting to 'discover' the truth about why Remus is away so often. If anyone could trump Lily's hatred for underage Death Eater wannabees, it would be her.

Her eyes glance up, and she meets Sirius' intense gaze as it flicks from her to the other girl. Go on,he seems to be saying. I dare you.

Mischief alights in her eyes as she starts to sprint towards her fiancé. Calling out his name as if physically pained by their time apart, she leaps into his arms, startling a loud, "Oof!" out of him as his arms come up to catch her. Smoothly, she wraps her legs around his waist, deciding to ignore the discomfort of having her skirt bunched up around her thighs for the sake of the prank.

"Go along with it," she whispers into his ear. Then, as loudly as she can without being obvious, she brightly exclaims, "James, _darling_. It's _so_ marvellous to see you! I was hoping to tell you the news before dinner, and now I can!"

"News?" he asks. His eyes are focused – his expression tells her he realises this is a prank – but confused as he stares up at her.

"Yes! I spoke to Madam Pomfrey, and she said it – sorry, _he_ – is a boy!"

"What?" Remus asks, looking at her like she's an alien.

She sends him an exaggerated wink, hoping that he too will get the hint. She doesn't want to risk outright telling him in case the other girl can overhear, so that will have to do even if he doesn't.

"Congratulations!" Sirius shouts as he runs at the couple, arms wide open, almost knocking them over with the force of the collision. His arms wrap around them, engulfing them in a tight embrace. "This is so exciting!"

"Isn't it just? James, dear, what do you think? I know you wanted a girl, but…"

Rolling his eyes, James shifts one hand until it's gripping the back of her head and uses it to pull her towards him. Their mouths fuse in a passionate dance that has Sirius winking at Remus even as he continues to hold onto them like a koala clinging to a tree. When air deprivation starts to become an issue, James pulls away, shooting Sirius a filthy look to reprimand him for his lack of personal boundaries.

Still, his eyes are rife with amusement when he turns his gaze back to his fiancée. "Fluffybutt had the kittens, then?"

"Is Skeeter gone?" Lily asks, avoiding the question, and realisation dawns in Remus' eyes at their words.

"She's running back to the castle now," he says, shaking his head slowly. "You didn't have to do this for me. You know the rumours will be even more brutal now."

"Let them be," she replies dismissively. "Everything I said is completely innocent, so I'll just maintain that she purposefully misconstrued my comments. And yes, James. They're all boys. Madam Pomfrey said we can come down to meet them anytime we like. Her siblings are going to take most of them out to their farm so they can grow up with more space and less disruptive children, but she said we can have our pick of the litter."

James has already started walking by the time she's finished speaking. "We'll go now."

"Put me down," she tells him, laughing, even as she tightens her grip around his neck so she won't fall. A mischievous grin lights up his face as he shakes his head at her, and she lets her forehead drop down to rest against his. "Please," she says sarcastically, timing her words to avoid the worst of Sirius and Remus' chortles. "This is extremely impractical, you know. We'll get there much faster if you – "

At that, his arms pull away from her, giving her the space to uncurl her legs and drop to the ground. As she slides her arms out from around his neck, he catches her left hand in his, absentmindedly playing with the engagement ring in a gesture that neither of them have seemed able to control since she first accepted his proposal.

"Of course _that_ is the thing that convinces you to let me down."

"You know me well."

"Onwards to Fluffybutt!" Sirius declares, high on the excitement. Roaring with infectious laughter, he sweeps them all along with him as he leads the charge to the infirmary.


	38. Sand of Time

Time slips away like sand through cupped hands. They're constantly aware of it, aware of each coarse grain as it falls through the crevasses and settles onto the beach of used moments and breaths. It's hard to push it from their minds when there is so little else to do. They have their small family, but they have no other social contact. They have assigned tasks to do for the Order, but they can't throw themselves in to the real fray. They have games and toys and books, but they have nothing meaningful to do long-term. All they can do is occupy themselves until other people in other places decide that enough is enough and declare the fighting over.

The little things they amuse themselves with may give them contentment and temporarily distract them from the realities of the situation, but they are just that; distractions. And the pair knows that, ultimately, they're just distracting themselves and Harry and hoping that the war ends before their supply of sand depletes itself too far. What if they turn seventy before Voldemort is defeated and it's safe to take Harry outside again? What if they are forced to home-school Harry instead of sending him to the place that is like a second home to them?

What if their hourglass runs out before the war's does?


	39. Theirs

He invites her into his heart almost immediately. He's open and unscarred, and he has the luxury of doing so without fear of getting hurt. She's the first one he has ever offered it to, but she subtly – and then, later, bluntly – makes excuses to avoid coming over. In time, he stops asking, but he never closes the door on the possibility of her.

It takes a while for her to trust and like him enough to invite him to visit _her_ heart. By the time she does, all of the doors and cupboards are open for his use. She takes him on the grand tour, and he compliments its upkeep, genuinely impressed by her beating home. And, finally, he takes her back to his as well.

It isn't long until she gives him a spare key, offering him full use of the abode. He give her one for his as well; it has always been hers, too, after all, even if she has only just accepted it. They cherish the exchange, splitting their time between the two houses.

Soon thereafter, they agree to move in together officially, and they do so without any fanfare. They dig a tunnel to connect their hearts so that they can come and go as they please, just the two of them. It's theirs and theirs alone.

They have spent so much time at each place that it seems like the natural next step, after all. Their things and their lives seem to fit together perfectly, melding into one until her place is his and his place is hers and both places are theirs.

And there they live, forever, in one another's hearts.


	40. Staying

A/N: I'm home! My parents and I went camping over the weekend and, while I loved relaxing with them and with some of Dad's relatives, it's wonderful to be back again.

* * *

"You're home late," he observed as she walked through the front door, looking weary and timeworn. Sighing, she dropped her handbag onto the counter and made her way over to the kitchen, where she immediately started brewing tea the Muggle way. "Tough day?"

"Yeah. St Mungo's owled to let me know they had a cancellation, so I headed there straight after work. They looked into the menstrual pain."

"Are you okay? Is it serious?"

"Yes… and yes. Yes to both." She knew she should tell him more, _wanted_ to tell him more, but she didn't feel like speaking. It was as if she simply _had_ to stay silent, as if forming sounds and words was an effort too great for her to bear.

The hairs on the back of her neck tingled as she felt James' presence behind her. His breath tickled the nape of her neck, his hands resting securely on her waist in a comforting grip. "But you're okay."

"I think so. I don't know. From what they said, I will be. It's manageable. It's just…" Twisting around, she burrowed into his arms, burying her face into his neck. "I have endometriosis," she whispered against his warm skin.

His arms tightened, and she knew him well enough to know what he was thinking. The fact that it had a fancy name made it seem all the worse. It was one thing to say she had severe menstrual pain; it felt like another thing entirely to say she had a specific condition. "I'm afraid you're going to tell me what that means," he said, fear and concern obvious in his voice.

"It means a lot of things. But one of them," she said slowly, "is that I'm not able to fall pregnant."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Are they sure?"

"They are. Most women with it can still conceive and carry to term, but they said…" She sighed. "That's obviously not the case for me."

He held her tighter against him. "And what are you thinking?"

"That it's alright because I've never had a particular desire to be a mother, so I won't be missing out on something important to me. That it's not alright because I would have liked to be able to make the choice for myself. That I can always adopt it if motherhood ever becomes something I need. That we haven't talked about kids before, so I don't know if it's a major thing for you. That it could be a deal breaker for you. That I would understand. That I would hate it. That – "

"Shh," he cut her off, rubbing his hand in slow, soothing circles across her back. Her breathing had picked up during the course of her confession, but it gradually stabilised again. When she appeared to have calmed down once more, he said, "I've always wanted kids, but they're not something I need. I need _you_. Now, after all we've been through, I wouldn't want kids with anyone else. It's with you or with no one. So, if that can't happen for us, that's fine with me. I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you," he echoed. "I'm here."

"And we'll get through this," she said, needing to hear the words. "It'll be okay."

"And we'll get through this," he agreed. "Together."


	41. Gravity

They had always been risk-takers, born for swashbuckling adventure, but then their love gave them wings and elevated them even higher. It gave them the power to defy gravity. Side by side, the pair soared high in the sky, catching wind currents and going wherever they pleased. Direction and purpose didn't matter to them as long as they were together, so they spent every day doing aerial aerobatics and enjoying the feel of the wind ruffling their feathers. The ground lay miles below them, and they felt more alive than they ever had before. They were completely free and unrestricted, having shucked off what society told them about who they should be and how they should go about spending their lives.

But then calamity struck. They flew into a hurricane, and they lost control. The winds spun them around in fierce circles, and they were buffeted by its force. They tried to fight it, individually and collectively, but it was much too strong. They were nothing more than helpless avian dolls in its grasp, struggling haplessly against its overwhelming power. It threw them out – him, then her – and gravity sent them hurtling down to the ground they had once thought abandoned forever. He landed, then she did.

Then, the weather calmed, and the sun came out again. Someone came to fetch their baby, who was still hidden away in the safety of their nest, several kilometres away from the disaster zone.

A decade later, the winds started to pick up again. After everything, however, their son and his new protector knew what it meant. They knew the terrifying ferocity of the coming storm.

And they were ready for it.


	42. The Distraction

A/N: Spoilers for season three of Buffy. Also, yeah, another time bending one. I'm not familiar enough with popular books and movies of the time to reference something historically accurate, and I figure that you should always take the opportunity to reference Buffy if it presents itself, so…

* * *

"And then you have Oz," Gigi gushed, pretending to swoon onto the loungebeside Sirius'. Sprawled out, she stared up at Lily, trying to look solemn despite her position. "He's, like, _so_ hot. He's sweet and deep and philosophical, and he's the lead guitarist in a band, and…"

Lily pushed her friend's feet off the cushions so she could fit in next to her, but Gigi merely shot her a reproachful look before swinging her legs back up defiantly so they rested in the redhead's lap. Rolling her eyes, Lily replied, "So you're saying I should watch it for the cute boys."

"Totally," she joked, twisting a strand of hair around her fingertips sardonically. "The amazing friendships and snappy dialogue and meaningful plotlines are, like, _totally_ secondary."

"Point taken. So tell me more about this Oz person."

"He's introduced as a love interest for Willow, which is so perfect because she has this major crush on Xander, who just sees her as a friend, and it helps her to… not get over it, really, but to grow as a person separate to him. And everything's going really well, you know? Oz is helping them research and he and Willow are so obviously going to end up together and everything is perfect."

"And then?"

"And then he realises that he's a werewolf."

A loud spluttering sound cut through their conversation. Glancing up, Lily's eyes were greeted with the sight of Remus seeming to actually _convulse_ as he spat out a mouthful of water. Her face paled as she realised what had caught his attention – and what would likely come of it. " _What_?" he demanded incredulously.

" _Gross_ , Remus," another seventh year boy named Anthony, who had been captivated by Gigi's story, reprimanded him as he swiftly evaporated the water. "How does he just 'find out'? Isn't that something you'd already know?"

"Yeah. What happened next?" Lily asked, almost desperately, trying to divert attention away from the lycanthrope who, realising that his little display had attracted the attention of everyone in the common room, was starting to blush in fierce embarrassment.

"It was when he woke up in the forest the next morning, I think. His little cousin bit him, so he didn't know until then," Gigi said hurriedly before twisting her upper body around so that she could face Remus. "What do you mean, 'What?'?"

"Yeah, Moo – _Remus_ ," Peter teased, trying to look innocent. "What do you mean?"

Remus shot him a filthy glare. "Just that… I didn't expect that twist, that's all. It just… Werewolves, you know. You never expect werewolves."

"We didn't either," Anthony replied, still eyeing him suspiciously. "Yet you didn't see any of uschoking onour drinks."

"Not to cut in," James said, smoothly doing exactly that, "but I need to head out, so this seems to be as good a time as any to… ah... _Well_." He bounded over to their lounge and dropped into place in front of Lily, kneeling at her feet. "Lily, my dear, you are the reason I breathe. I love you more than life itself. Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to Hogsmeade this fine weekend?"

His face looked so earnest that it pulled a started laugh from Lily. While she would have once been annoyed by such an excessive display, particularly when she had made her own feelings abundantly clear, the last few months of tentative friendship had softened her towards it. Melodrama was, it appeared, what James Potter _did_. So, while she expected him to tone it down while he was around her, she had come to tolerate it. His blatant attempt to distract the others, however…

"Seriously," Gigi intoned, her gaze still fixed on Remus. "That was weird, man."

Lily frowned as she realised that James' ploy hadn't worked. Their friends were, it seemed, so used to their dynamics that it no longer warranted notice. They all knew how it would have played out last year: James publicly asks Lily out, Lily feels humiliated and says no, James hexes someone in a misguided attempt to manage his anger. And they expected it to go down the same way then as well.

"James," Lily said sweetly, raising her voice loud enough for it to carry without appearing staged, "I would _love_ to go to Hogsmeade with you this weekend."

Then she knocked Gigi's legs aside and flung herself off the lounge and into his arms, knocking them both onto the common room floor. He let out a surprised grunt as he hit the carpet, but that in no way dimmed his beaming smile as his arms came up to wrap around her.

"Oops," Lily said, forcing out a giggle as she adjusted herself in his arms. "Sorry."

Silence spread across the room like mist, starting with those closest to them but continuing until not a sound was uttered by any of the room's inhabitants.

"It sounds like it worked," Lily whispered to James.

"Thanks for going along with it," he muttered back. "I was terrified they'd work it out."

"Me too."

"You do realise we'll actually have to go to Hogsmeade together now, though, right? So no one realises – "

"I know. I was planning to ask you out tomorrow, anyway." She rolled off him and sat up, grinning broadly. A faint blush spread across her face as she noticed Remus gazing at her intently. Remus, who knew that her feelings for James had turned romantic weeks ago, but who also knew that public announcements weren't really her thing. Remus, who knew exactly what she had just done for him.

Laughing, James pushed himself up off the floor until he was sitting beside her, his arm looped around her shoulders. "She said yes!"

Gigi cheered. As the whole room – barring Remus, who just smiled at her gratefully – followed suit, Gigi shot Lily a congratulatory wink.

 _We've got this,_ Lily thought as she looked back at James. _Mission accomplished._ Both _missions accomplished._

* * *

A/N: My friend April (apriljunemay on FFN; you should check out her HP/Twilight crossover The Keeper's Lament, which is linked from my profile) and I were discussing how hilariously bad Remus is at keeping his cool when lycanthropy comes up in conversation, and she suggested that some of Sirius' and James' antics might have simply been an attempt to cover for him. Like: Remus is acting suss in public again; time to jinx a random Ravenclaw! Anyway, I thought it'd be fun to have Lily get in on the distraction action as well.


	43. Graduation

A/N: I added an extra chapter to the queue a while back, so I will actually be marking this as complete now rather than… well, last chapter. Anyway, thank you to everyone who has favorited and/or reviewed this!

* * *

Lily holds her certificate in her hands and smiles out at the sea of relatives gathered together to see this year's cohort of students graduate. Those around her are gazing at proud family members, but her gaze is fixed on James. Unlike her classmates, her parents and sister aren't – _couldn't_ be – there. She has no parents to congratulate her and tell her how they always knew she would go well, always knew she would be the dux. She has no older sister to roll her eyes at her and tell her how she _supposes_ Lily did alright. She has no family to look over and gush about her school reference letter or individual results.

She will be able to do all of that when she gets home, but it won't be the same.

But she isn't alone. She has James. She has their friends. And, as she watches James' parents applaud for her just as loudly as they did for Sirius, a magically enhanced camera in his father's hand as he takes a photo of her standing next to Dumbledore, Lily realises that she has James' family as well.

Her smile becomes a little fuller as she looks back to James. As bittersweet as graduating without her parents there may be, she belongs here just as much as anyone else. She has been welcomed into the Potters' little crew of children without affectionate and present wizarding parents. She, Sirius and Remus are like ducklings eagerly following around the researchers they imprinted upon. However much she loves her Muggle family, she adores her wizarding one too.

The horizon seems to stretch out before her, promising endless possibilities and potential. As she steps down off the stage and lines up with her classmates, Lily can't help but think that, with James by her side, her future has never looked brighter.


End file.
